Leverage
by smokeydog
Summary: reunions and everyone is safe. Or so we think
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of these characters.

I am not making any money off this story. This work is done purely for entertainment.

I'm updating three chapters at a time, but these are short chapters. I don't know if I will be able to continue to do that.

Jonathan Alter took a cautious sip of coffee. The liquid was scalding hot. He put it down quickly. He got up and walked over to the freezer. He opened the door and plucked an ice cube from the tray.

"Grab me one, will you?" the room's other occupant didn't lift his eyes from the computer terminal he was studying. He was maybe fifty, physical fit but with a ghostly pallor. Most disconcerting was that his perfectly normal blue eyes only blinked a third of normal rate.

Jonathan dropped one ice cube into his coffee and the second into the other coffee cup. He knew he wouldn't have to wait much longer. He was too tired to complain about the room's chill, the lack of light, and the dust and grime that coated everything.

_Th recruiters never tell you how hard it is to keep your secret, underground supervillain base clean, _Alter thought to himself.

"Are you sure this data is correct?" Before the superhero ethics committee deemed that his experiments posed too great a threat to human life, Maximus was one of America's premier scientific superheroes. That they would have the effrontery to reprimand him, to put him under a microscope was a scenario that had occurred to him. He disappeared, taking his more favorable plans with him.

Unfortunately, being an evil mad scientist was expensive.

That is how his destiny became tied with Alter. Alter was a sidekick he befriended. Alter could use his skin to move small quantities of metal dust from one location to another. He'd been stuck as the sidekick of a mentally challenged metal manipulating superhero who treated him as his personal whipping boy.

When Maximus learned that Alter was particularly adept at transferring gold dust onto his hands, he realized the young man's potential.

"To summarize. Command is aware that you have been, quite illegally, skimming gold from Fort Knox. The only reason you have not been arrested is they strongly suspect you have a partner and they wish to wrap up the entire operation at one time."

Alter nodded. "I can't stay there much longer."

"This is not the time to draw attention to yourself." Maximus said calmly. "I am at a very delicate stage of testing of the wave disrupter. I cannot be distracted with trivial matters at the moment."

"You and I have a different opinion of trivia. I am about to end up in Maxville Superhero Penitentiary."

"It will not come to that."

If anyone else had said that, Alter would have scoffed, but this was Maximus.

"You have a plan," he asked hopefully.

"We need a distraction? I predict they will discover this lab within two weeks. I cannot move my equipment before then. So, we must give them something else to think about and a reason to leave us in peace. Once my machine is perfected, they will be in no position to trouble us."

"Return to the surface. Halt all gold extraction. We need no more money. Do nothing suspicious. Jon, if you run, I will cut you off. Keep your head and everything will be alright."


	2. Chapter 2

After Alter left, Maximus locked his laptop and headed down the hall. He paused to address the man standing guard at the end of the hallway.

"Boss, she's gonna tell you I slapped her around."

"And did you?"

"Damn straight, she was screaming bloody murder. I know you need it quiet."

"Very well. I don't think we'll have anymore problems with her, but in case we do, I need her in one piece, Peterson. Now open the door."

Maximum bent his head and entered the cell. A young woman sagged on a camp bed. At one time she might have been pretty. Her hair was brittle and unkempt, her nails chewed down. She was thin and ragged and had a manic air about her.

"Miranda," Maximus greeted her. "It grieves me to see how you have deteriorated."

She jerked to her feet. "Do you have it?"

Maximus reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pen like device. The woman clawed at him for it.

"Peterson," he shouted. In a flash the mercenary was in the room. He restrained the woman. She spit at him.

"Bitch," he released her and pulled back his fist.

"Peterson!" Maximus rounded on him. He looked at his boss, then slowly forced his fingers to unclench.

"You mind your manners with the boss man, lady."

The woman collapsed on the bed. "Please," she sobbed. "Help me."

"All in good time Miranda. I think she will be docile, Peterson."

Peterson knew when he was being dismissed.

"I'll do anything you want," the woman – Miranda – begged "I can't stand this anymore."

Maximum twirled the pen in his hands. "Anything." He walked forward and grasped her upper arm. He drew back the pen and injected it into her.

The change was incredible. In a matter of minutes, her hair turned a burning red, the color flooded back to her face. She was beautiful. "That is better, isn't it?"

"Yes." She got her feet and looked at her reflection in the mirror Maximus handed her.

"So much better than rehab. They would wean you off this. You don't want that, do you?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

"Are you ready to do what I asked?"

"Yes. What do I care what happens to that brat anyway? After all the grief my sister gave me."

He handed her a wallet. "There is cash and credit cards for your use. You'll need to buy clothes and gifts. Peterson will drive you to the train station. You should be in Maxville by morning. I want you having dinner with your sister by tomorrow evening. We do not have unlimited time."

She was still studying her reflection. "Fine."

"Good, now go and play the loving aunt."


	3. Chapter 3

Hot, sweaty, and exhausted, Layla Williams staggered through the front door.

"Mom," she called out. "I'm home."

It wasn't her mother who answered her. "No hug for your favorite aunt."

"Aunt Miranda." Layla sounded more amazed than glad. Maybe she wasn't the last person she'd expected to see upon coming come, but Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny could hardly count.

"The one and only." She held her arms open.

Layla pulled off her white sun hat. "You don't want to hug. I've been working in the city gardens all day." She pulled at her sweaty top for emphasis."Mom didn't say you were coming to visit."

"Mom didn't know," Natalie Williams said dryly. Miranda gave her a look. Sensing trouble, Layla jumped in. "But we're really glad your here."

Miranda didn't argue, but she didn't look totally convinced. "My job got cancelled so I had a couple of free days. Since I was in the area, I figured it was fate." She looked at Layla critically. "You must have grown three inches since I last saw you. Quite the bean stalk you are."

"How long can you stay?" Layla asked. She was putting a brave face on the fact that she could see her free time with Will shrinking away. Between her summer job and the Commander and Jetstream's summer training program, all they hadtime for was a couple of hours in front of the TV a couple of nights per week. The nights ended up with Will's snoozing on her shoulder or lap.

"I was just discussing that with your Mom. Just a couple of days. As soon as you get cleaned up, let's go out and eat, my treat. Layla, do you still like Chinese?"

"My favorite." Layla never turned down an opportunity to visitthe Paper Lantern.

"Mom."

Natalie couldn't say no to that pleading face. 'Sides, it saved her preparing a meal. "Fine with me. Go get cleaned up."

An hour later the three women were walking into the restaurant.

"This restaurant has such a warm and inviting air," Miranda said.

"That's what I've always thought." Layla couldn't help but be pleased when her aunt agreed with her. "Let's go sit by the windows."

They sat down. A girl came by to pour water. "Excuse me," Layla asked her. "Is Warren working tonight?" The girl nodded.

"Miranda, are you still in the sound system business?" Natalie asked.

"What can I say, it pays the bills and I get to meet a lot of interesting people? But let's not talk about me? Are you seeing anyone Natalie?"

Her sister sighed. "It's hard to meet decent guys, especially in my position."

Miranda giggled, "you have a position."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "You haven't grown up any."

Her daughter got up. "I'm going to try to find Warren. Order me vegetable fried rice."

"So, is Layla dating this Warren?" Miranda asked her sister after Layla was out of earshot.

Natalie shook her head. "No, they're just friends."

Miranda craned her neck to look better at the tall, dark haired boy Layla was hugging. "To bad, he's gorgeous."

"She's dating Will Stronghold. You met him the last time for visited. Do you remember?"

The arrow hits its mark. "Nat, we're trying to have a nice meal."

"I haven't heard from you since Christmas," her sister hissed, "and that was just a five minute call. Nothing at my birthday. That's bad enough but when was the last time you talked to Mom or Dad. Then you just drop in out of the blue, charm the stockings off my daughter, and I'm suppose to not say anything."

"Well, maybe if I didn't get all this disapproval, I'd call more often," she snapped. "Look Nat, I'm sorry. I know I've screwed up a lot of stuff, but things have been really bad for me. I met a guy and I thought he was the one. Turns out he already had somebody."

'I'm sorry to hear that?"

"I lent him money, which I never got back. I couldn't work in California cause his wife made such a fuss. I had to go to Europe, and let me tell you Paris sucks if you're broke."

"You could have asked me for help."

"You don't have the money to bail me out of trouble.Yourhero work keeps you from making any real money."

"Don't start that argument. I do allright. One doesn't become a Hero for money. Just because you didn't inherit the gene is not enough of an excuse to give me grief about my finances. Besides, my real problem was having a child by myself, not my clinic hours."

"Trust me Nat, I light a candle every Christmas in thankfulness that I was spared initiation into your little do gooder club." She took a deep breath."Look, I'm here now. Let's not fight."

A terrible thought occured to Natalie. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Miranda felt her heart beat quicker. "No Why would you think that?"

"I dunno. You showing up out of the blue. You didn't get a bad mamogram or something, did you?"

"I need to schedule one. No, I'm as healthy as the devil allows. Layla's done talking to her too cute to not be boyfriend. Can we have a civil meal?"

Before Natalie could respond, Layla came back to the table. "Warren says the kitchen is swamped. He'll try to bring our food out to us. He wanted to thank you for the Borders gift card you gave him for graduation."

"It's a special milestone. I wanted him to know that people were happy for him."

"It's not going to be the same at school next year without Warren," Layla said dolefully.

"Your mom was just saying you're still seeing Will Stronghold," Miranda broke in.

"Yes I am, and I take satisfaction in proving everyone wrong."

"Layla," her mother objected. "All I did was warn you that high school relationships are not known for longevity and thatyou shouldn't get so hung up about one guy, even a nice guy like Will."

"How long have you been dating him?" Miranda asked.

"32 months," Layla sad quickly.

"I'm impressed. It sounds serious."

"Not too serious," Natalie said, looking pointedly at her daughter.

The waitress came with their food. Miranda speared a piece of broccoli. "You'll both be seniors, this September," she asked.

Layla, her mouth full of rice, nodded.

"Any chance your boyfriend could join us tomorrow for lunch."

"I dunno. His parents keep him pretty busy. I'm free tomorrow."

"What about your summer job?"

"I'm working for the city, helping to maintain the public gardens and potted flowers. I've got early morning water detail tomorrow, I'll be free by eleven."

"It's a date," her aunt said brightly.


	4. Chapter 4

Layla looked around the restaurant, a bit awestruck. Her mother's salary didn't lend itself to extravagances. She planned on angling for the Cheesecake Factory; instead Aunt Miranda pulled up right in front of Marjiano.

"I've been told this is the new hot spot in Maxville."

Layla's rapidly snapped her jaw shut. "Yeah, if you like spending lots of money for pasta." Her aunt didn't know what she was getting into. It would be unprincipled to take advantage of her. "And that's before the wine list."

Aunt Miranda was rather fond of alcohol as she recalled.

"Too bad to hear that," Miranda grinned cheekily. "I do enjoy a good merlot. You probably remember I enjoyed it a little too much when you were a little tike. Nothing like a little wine in the afternoon to mellow out the day."

Layla let herself be led to a table with fine linen and a menu without prices. She couldn't help but feel grown up when the host pulled out a chair for her.

"Aunt Miranda. Can you afford this?" she whispered.

Miranda waved off her concern. "I got a message last night from an old friend with a lucrative job offer, so I thought I'd splurge. "I guess you haven't been here before."

Layla surprised her by shaking her head. "The Strongholds, that's Will's mom and Dad, treated us for Mom's birthday."

"It sounds like they have money," Miranda nodded approvingly. "A bulging wallet is a great accessory. Hang on to this one with tooth and nail if you have to."

"His parents are pretty successful and his granddad's rich," Layla told her. "I'll have the vegetable lasagna and iced tea," Layla told the hovering waitress.

"And I'll have a seafood salad and the house recommended wine." Miranda closed the menu with a snap. The waitress left to place their order. Miranda tore off a piece of bread. "Have you decided what you want to study in college?"

"Not exactly. Certainly something in the environmental or plant science field. Will and I are going to go to University of Maxville. I'll probably transfer to Metropolis at some point for a Master's." Layla bit her lip. Aunt Miranda's expression had hardened. She knew her aunt hadn't finished college. "The community helps us with placement, you know."

"I guess there are some advantages to being part of a secret society." Layla couldn't tell if she sounded bitter or just resigned. "What about your boyfriend? Is he the egghead type?" Miranda asked.

Layla's couldn't help giggling at the mere thought. "Not Will. I think he may have a mild case of ADD. I mean, he's not stupid, but he gets distracted easily. Maybe he'd do better if he had to sweat it, but he's going into the family business." Layla rolled her eyes. "It's been planned since birth. His parents' are very successful realtors."

"That's lucky for him."

"It can be a bit of a drag sometimes. Will's parents mean well but they are a bit larger than life. Nobody can suck the oxygen out of a room quicker than the Co . . ." Layla hastily took a sip of the tea the waitress had just silently delivered, "than his parents."

"He doesn't want to be a realtor? This is a free country. Tell him to get a backbone."

"Will doesn't have a better idea, so going into real estate is fine. He and his Dad are arguing right now about his college degree. His Dad wants him to go into Business. Will wants to study liberal arts. I think he will do well in real estate."

"Why?"

Layla warmed to her favorite subject. "He's very good with people and has a wonderfully easy going charm. I think he'll enjoy helping people find homes. It's not like he has a lot of choice. What with," she lowered her voice, "being you know what, a lot of careers are out of the question. It's too bad he couldn't come today. You'd understand him better if you could meet him."

Miranda reached forward and grasp Layla's wrist. "Maybe this is better. We can have some good girl talk." By know the server had returned with their orders. Miranda took a mouthful of salad. "I got the impression my sister wasn't thrilled with Will."

"Oh, no," Layla interjected quickly. "She likes Will. She just thinks I'm too young to be emotionally attached." Layla took a mouthful of pasta.

"Well," Miranda leaned forward conspiratorially, "I shouldn't tell you this, but Nat had plenty of boyfriends in high school.

Layla stared morosely at her plate. "She's gotten so uptight on the subject that we can't even have a discussion without her losing it."

"Layla, if you want a sympathetic ear, I've available. Trust me, I love your Mom, but nobody knows better than me how closed minded she can be when she makes up her mind."

Layla looked doubtful.

"Honest, what's happens at Marjiano's stays in Marjiano's."

Her sex life, or lack of it, was the last thing Layla had planned on discussing at lunch, but her aunt had provided an outlet to vent her unhappiness. "Well, I tried to talk to her about going on birth control and she couldn't deal. She had a screaming fit, made it sound like I was going to start streetwalking. I wasn't allowed to even date Will for a week, and we hadn't done anything." The injustice of it still infuriated her.

Miranda looked suitably shocked. "That's terrible, Layla."

Layla just stared at her nearly empty plate.

"I really mean it. Nat is being totally unreasonable."

"I know she just worries about me. But does she think I want to get pregnant?"

"So Will uses protection?"

"Between his parents and my nazi of a mother, there is NO reason. I'm pretty sure she told Will's Mom about the birth control, cause it got even worse after that. We hardly get to spend any time together alone. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen next month." That unpleasant knot was back in the pit of her stomach. The knot that would never completely be untied, no matter how affectionate Will was to her. She was dating the most eligible boy in school. Will could have his pick of any Hero girl. Sure, he didn't pay any of them the least attention. Most of the time he didn't even pick up on the fact that they were coming on to him until Warren pointed it out. Layla took her last bite of lasagna. Her feelings of ill usage were threatening to overwhelm her. The two ate in silence for a while.

"What about you?" Layla asked with forced cheerfulness. "Are you seeing anybody?"

Miranda gave her credit card to the waitress. "I'm taking a little vacation from men. How 'bout an early birthday gift? I don't think I'll be in the country for your birthday. I've got the perfect gift for you."

Miranda dragged toward the department store next door. She scanned the directory quickly and headed for the escalator.

"Where are we going?" Layla asked. Her aunt just kept walking, finally coming to stop before a display of robes and matching mule slippers. Layla had always thought an evil villain invented high-heeled slippers.

"If I ever met a girl who needed a sexy nightgown, it's you." Miranda held out a black silk teddy. "Do you like it?"

Layla laughed humorlessly. "Mom would burn it."

Miranda put it back. "Good point. 'Sides, a girl your age doesn't need to wear black. How bout something a little more conservative? Look around for something you like." Miranda took off before Layla could object. She knew her mother would not approve of her sister buying her expensive gifts, but Layla was feeling rebellious. And her birthday was coming up. Layla wandered around. She stopped at the display of matching pajama sets. She found one the color of Granny Smith apples. The fabric was soft and shiny. It wouldn't show a lot of skin, but there was something decadent about it all the same.

"Ohh, that will look good with your coloring."

"Where you serious, about an early birthday gift?"

Miranda nudged her toward the changing rooms. It only took a few minutes to discover the pajamas fit like a glove.

"There is nothing like silk on your skin, is there." Miranda plucked the fabric from Layla's hands. She had picked out a few items for herself.

"I don't know what to say," Layla felt awkward. "I really shouldn't let you buy me anything."

Miranda embraced her, kissing her on the cheek. "You are only young once, Layla. It's a special time of your life. Don't let your mother ruin that."

Layla looked surprised. "I know that's not politically correct speech, but I think your mother should have more respect for you. You're a sensible girl. Let's go sit outside for a few minutes. I want to talk to you."

Layla followed her aunt out of the store. It was hot outside so they found a bench in the shade.

"Remember I told you I got an e-mail last night. An old friend of mine needs some last minute help with an album. It's good money. I can't afford to turn him down. I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

"That's too bad." Layla meant it. Today had been fun.

"This isn't the Saturday that you work, is it?"

"No. I'm off this weekend."

"Good, what about your boyfriend?"

"Will insisted he be left alone on my weekend off. We'll probably catch a movie."

"I am going to make a reservation at the Maxville Regency for Saturday night. You can check in at 2.00pm." Layla's eyes popped open wide. "I'll put your name on the reservation and I'll pay in advance. All you have to do is pick up the key. They won't ask for identification. I wouldn't have your young man standing next to you, but hotels are discreet places. There is a subway connection right in front of the hotel."

Layla's face had turned white. "What are you saying?"

"You, Will, and hotel room. I don't think I need to draw you a map.


	5. Chapter 5

Remember everyone, read and review

_How Josie Stronghold puts up with us every week I'll never know?_ The thought went through Warren's mind as he gathered up the crushed soda cans, empty chip bowls, and small forest of dirty paper plates.

It was the weekly Friday night gathering of the Stronghold crew. Watching TV, doing homework (Ethan, Warren, occasionally Layla), not doing homework (Zack, Magenta, Will), discussing whatever giant alien ass Will's parents had just kicked or Couch Boomer's latest maze of death. Good times.

Such carefree days were coming to an end. In a week he'd be reporting to his very prestigious internship with the European Union Metahuman Bureau of Law and Justice. It will be a great learning experience and since Dad never burned down anything in Paris, there would be a lot less awkward silence when he walked into a room.

The fact that half of the senior Hero class was completely pissed that **Baron Battle's son** was this year's recipient was just one log on the bonfire.

Warren picked up the last of the trash and tied off the garbage bag. He poked at Will. "You awake there, Stronghold."

From his supine position on the sofa, Will waved one hand as it to say, _yes, I am awake. Don't make me get up and rip your head off._

Zack, Magenta, Ethan, and his girlfriend had all taken off already. Layla was putting food away in the kitchen.

Layla had seemed a little quiet tonight. It was bugging at Warren like a mild toothache.

"Well, I guess I'll call it a night."

Done with the kitchen, Layla walked over to them. "Will, walk me home," she asked.

There was a soft mumbled sound. Translation:_ Just let me lie here and die._

"I'll take you," Warren offered. _The Commander really needs to lighten up._

"Will," Layla tugged at his arm. "Walk with me."

"Layla," Will moaned. "Just this once . . ."

She grabbed hold of his arm, shaking it "Will, I have something I want to talk to you about."

That got his attention. Will staggered to his feet. "Okay." He shot a worried look at Warren.

The pyro just looked back at him. They all left the house together. Warren climbed on his motorcycle. Will looked on jealously. Layla felt her throat clench at the sight of those long limbs and tight ass displayed so well. Warren smiled suddenly at her and she had to avert her gaze. He gave them one last wave before peeling off. Will and Layla waited until Warren was a speck of dust in the distance before they headed toward Layla's house.

"You really think he looks hot on that bike?" Will sounded just a tad aggrieved.

She ignored the question. "If you get a bike, you know your parents will make you wear a helmet for appearance's sake."

"Yup. You wanted to talk to me?" Will had been racking his brain, trying to figure out if Layla was mad at him. He didn't know how she could be? He'd hardly seen her all week. Maybe that was it. "I know I've been busy this week . . . " he began.

She wrapped her arms around his waist. "Silly, I know your parents are slave drivers. I'm not mad. I," she paused. To Will, she seemed to be tongue-tied. "I have some news, good news, but its just weird to talk about it."

"I'm listening."

She took a deep breath. "I told you my aunt was in town. Well, at lunch I said more than maybe I should have, about . . . our parents' hobby and us. And Aunt Miranda, well, she's staying at the Maxville Regency tonight -- she had a business meeting -- and she told me she'd book the room for two days. It's all paid for and she added my name when she registered. If we wanted to, we could check in at 2:00 tomorrow," Layla finished in a rush.

Will wasn't certain he'd heard correctly. It sounded like his girlfriend said they had a fancy hotel room at their disposal, but that couldn't be right. The Universe was never that kind to him.

"Well," she licked her lips. "Do you want to?"

He just stared at her.

NEXT DAY, DOWNTOWN MAXVILLE

Will kept well out of sight. He sort of felt like a young James Bond. . .except that he wasn't British, a double 0 agent and didn't own a classic auto with built in missiles

His parents had dragged him to enough parties over the years that he knew a fair amount of business people in the city. If word of this ever got back to them . . .

When Layla had asked him if he wanted to spend several hours alone with her in a room with a bed, his jaw had gone slack. Since he'd lost the ability to speak, he'd emphatically nodded his head. What did she expect? He was a guy after all.

"You got it." Will asked Layla.

She showed him the key.

They went over to the elevator. "We're on floor thirteen."

"My new favorite number."

The couple got into the elevator, along with a half dozen others. Every light on the switchboard was lit.

It was worse than running late and catching every red light. Layla looked everywhere but at her boyfriend. Ever time she did a shiver would run down her spine.

A thought came to her, of him running his hands down her back, bending his head toward her.

The door opened at floor thirteen. Will let her step out first. She noticed that he seemed to be smirking.

_Prat, he acts like he's going to get lucky. _She shot him a look, plainly she thought he was acting the immature cad. The couple followed the hallway signs until they were standing in front of the correct door. Not wanted to linger, Layla jabbed the plastic key into the locking mechanism. The door obligingly swung open. Will hustled her through it.

He collapsed against the closed door in mock alarm. "We made it."

She couldn't help but giggle.

Will swung Layla around in his arms. "So, here we are." Several minutes later they broke apart, both breathing heavily.

"Will," Layla slapped away the hand that was moving toward her breasts. "I'm going to get changed."

She'd only been gone a few minutes when there was a knock on the door. Will just about jumped out of his skin. A male's voice called, 'Room Service."

Tentatively, Will opened the door. A man in a liveried jacket stood before him, holding an ice bucket with what looked to be wine or maybe champagne

"I have a delivery for Ms.Williams."

"She's indisposed. Can I take it?" Will asked.

The man proffered over the gift. There was nothing to sign for. He handed Will an envelope. Will closed the door, belatedly realizing he should have tipped him. Layla's name was written on the envelope.

"Was someone at the door?"

It's a good thing Will wasn't holding the bottle at the neck. Layla had unpinned her hair. It hung like a red waterfall down her face. She was wearing sexy pajamas. They clung to her fit body. The front was a rather deep V-neck.

Green was definitely her color.

Will swallowed hard and held out the envelope to her. She took it.

"It's from my aunt." She looked up from the card. "She's wishing us luck." She let her hair fall like a curtain in front of her face.The naked look of longing on Will's face was bringing to life a million butterflies in her stomach.

"Are you sure it's from her?" Will asked hesitantly.

"It's her handwriting."

"It's just, . . "Will looked around him "Why is she doing this?"

"She's being nice to me," Layla looked at him.

Layla tended to think everyone was nice, but still what other explanation was there? "Isn't she worried your mother will be upset?"

Layla's brow furrowed, "Mom isn't going to find out." She plucked the bottle from his hands. "Let's toast."

Will ended up prying the cork out. He poured out the liqueur

Layla picked up a glass. "To best friends." She just tapped her glass against Will's. Neither one wanted glass shards in the carpet. Her hand shook just a little bit.

Layla didn't drink very much, she didn't have a great taste for alcohol. Will finished his glass so she had a little more.

Will picked her up like she weighed a feather and carried her to the bed. It was more of a turn on than Warren on his bike any day.

"Show off." Layla plumped a couple of pillows at her back. Will kicked off his shoes and dropped down boisterously next to her. He moved back a swath of hair and kissed along her neck.

Layla leaned into him. He moved his hand to her waist. Their faces were mere inches apart. Everything was still for a moment, suddenly Will moved. They kissed passionately. Will pressed his tongue against her bottom lip. Layla gasped at the sensation.

Layla felt her eyes grow heavy. She closed them. It was so easy to just drift away.

She didn't notice when Will's arm went slack.

"


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to all of my reviews. Things should start to get more interesting.

I do not own any of these characters. I am not making any money from this activity.

Chapter Six

Maximus closed his laboratory doors. Not physically of course, that would be so pedestrian. He may be forced into a second rate rat hole but his laboratory was still state of the art.

It gnawed at him like a hungry mutt with a bone. How far he had fallen, the ignominy of it all. He was one of the premier Superbeing scientists. He signed off on Fellowships, controlled purse strings. His favor was completed for.

Now he was manufacturing illicit drugs and abducting children. It was almost humorous.

He learned the error of his way. He challenged the Council without the means to enforce his will. The Heroes squashed the Intellectuals, as usual.

He would take steps to ensure that never happened to him again.

He poured himself a gin and tonic. Everything had gone according to plan. He now had a very powerful bargaining chip. He'd put a sedative in the wine. He was careful about the amount of drug he mixed with the alcohol. He had the antidote available, but giving it to the boy would have been no easy feat. If they hadn't consumed the wine he would have had to resort to gas..

It was a coup. The son of the Commander and Jetstream in his custody. His abduction would be the first topic of conversation at the morning briefing meetings of all the world leaders, both civilian and superpower. The supervillains would speak of it in hushed voices.

He had some of his associates (a fancy term for thugs) bind the children – the titanium metal had cut into his budget to a bothersome amount, but it was necessary. They were placed in large trunks and his people, dressed like any other hotel guests, rolled the trunks out of the hotel and into a waiting van. It would be hours before the alarm was raised. He had run an electric scanning device over the teenagers before they left. The girl had never been fitted with a tracking device. The boy had, but it was hopelessly broken – it probably hadn't survived his power surge.

Five hours later, the children were still unconscious. Maximus had been monitoring their breathing. The boy was showing signs of coming around. The van entered a derelict warehouse in a seedier part of East Gotham. Hendrickson, an illegitimate son of a Hero, pressed the remote that caused part of the floor to drop away.

Grunting, his men carried the prisoners downwards. They were secured in a storeroom. The room was rough concrete and terribly dusty. There were no obvious cracks in the walls. The girl would have nothing to work with. The boy was his main concern but reports indicated the girl was not as fragile as she appeared. He ordered the boy's ankle be chained to a titanium-reinforced bracket on the floor. Someone, probably Jon, had placed a mattress and some blankets in the corner of the room. Behind a metal barrier was a commode and sink.

They were dropped on the mattress. The girl was dead to the world. The boy appeared to be in a drunken stupor. He reached for her, wrapping his arm around her waist. Maximus looked at the children without brutality or pity. They were handsome children, beloved by their parents. "I want them given adequate food and water. Keep the temperature sixty degrees. Do not touch either of them?" It had not gone unnoticed by any of the men that the girl was quite beautiful.

He was broken from his thoughts by a small beep at the door. He was fairly certain he knew who it was. The door swung back, admitting **Lightening Bolt.**

"You wanted something, Roger." **Lightening Bolt** was a Supervillain with the power to propel electrical bolts. He was currently in charge of funneling Maximus the equipment he needed. Since much of the equipment was on prohibited lists, a villain was needed for the job. He was in it for power, plan and simply. Maximus liked that about him. He was uncomplicated.

He looked part impressed, par chagrined. "I have to hand it to you. When Jon told me what you did?" he shook his head. "Have you decided on a ransom figure?"

"I'm not planning on ransoming them, but I suppose I should think of a figure just to throw Command off our track."

"Well, the boy could be sold for twenty million easy. The breeding potential alone is enormous."

Maximus took a swig of his drink. Roger poured himself a vodka.

"There is one part of this which worries me? You should have killed the girl's aunt."

"She boarded a jet for Germany this morning. Even if she recovers her moral balance, she doesn't know the location of this facility. I want them to waste time chasing her. She has no information of value."

Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High

"Warren," Victoria Peace called from the doorway. "Warren," she repeated his name, louder this time.

"Huh," Warren squinted at the light pouring in from his open bedroom door.

"Josie Stronghold's on the phone. She needs to talk to you."

Warren's eyes darted toward his bedside clock. The red neon flashed 12:20 am. Will's mother wouldn't be calling him at this time to night to ask him to pick her up a souvenir from the Louvre. He threw his legs over the bed. His mother handed him the cordless phone.

"I'm on," he said tersely.

Josie sounded part scared, part embarrassed. It was like she hadn't made up her mind what kind of a state she should be in.

"Do you know where Will is?"

"No. What's going on?"

"Maybe I'm making a big deal of nothing, but he was suppose to be home at eleven. I can't reach him on the phone. That's what really worries me. Natalie doesn't have any idea where they are either."

"Who else have you talked to?"

"Zach, Magenta, Ethan, Will's cousins. If anybody knows anything they're not saying."

"I'll be over in fifteen minutes," he hung up the phone then hunted for a clean pair of jeans and shirt.

"Call me as soon as you hear something?" Victoria had been in the Hero biz too long to not be aware of the ramifications of Will Stronghold being unaccounted for.

She grabbed Warren's arm. "Careful on the roads."

"I'll be okay." He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

_If this is teenage rebellion, I'll be first in line to kill him. _Will Stronghold was her son's friend. Warren made friends as easily as a miser parted with his gold. The friendship gave her son tranquility and a modicum of respectability. He and Layla were good kids.Victoria prayed she'd be listening to Josie complain about him tomorrow.

Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High

Peace pulled up at the Stronghold resident maybe ten minutes later. Every light in the first floor seemed to be on.

Josie Stronghold greeted him at the door. He could tell the prodigal hadn't turned up.

He nodded to her and stepped into the house. The Commander – that's how Warren always thought of him – was prowling the confines of the living room. He looked grim. Over the years he'd gotten almost use to Steve Stronghold. It hit Warren suddenly: this was one of the most dangerous men on the planet.

The Commander wasn't the only one who was dangerous. If anybody had hurt Will or Layla, they may not live, but they would regret it.

Warren went over to Layla's mother. Natalie Williams had always been nice to him.

"We haven't heard anything yet?" she told him. "I found Layla's cell in her room. She often doesn't take it with her if she is with Will. He always has his."

She took a deep breath. "Even if . . . even if something has happened I just wish we knew." Her face crumpled. Josie came over and guided her to the couch.

"Have you called security yet?" Warren questioned. "There must be some sort of protocol for this." _The first hours are always the most important._

"We've called unofficially," Mr. Stronghold's voice was steady and calm. Warren found himself grateful for the man's stoicism. "They think Will and Layla are just goofing off. They're checking the local hospitals and the police scanners for anything that might be related to this. The supervillain prison reports no unusual activity. Intel same thing.

_Local, what's local for Stronghold,_ Warren thought.

"Don't you have some sort of tracking device on him?" Warren asked. Jetstream in particular liked her electronic gadgets.

"It stopped working when Will powered up. Something about the waves not travelling through his skeletal system." Josie answered.

"I wish I'd thought of tagging Layla," Natalie said.

"You know," Warren had been mulling over how to bring this up on the way over. "Layla seemed a little quiet last night. I had a feeling something was on her mind."

Steve looked unimpressed. Josie took notice. Warren was too smart of a person to dismiss.

"Also, she insisted Will walk her home." The others in the room didn't grasp the implication. Warren fought back his impatience. "Will could barely move last night. I said I'd take her home, but she practically used the girlfriend's command to get him off that couch. She said she wanted to talk to him." Warren didn't know quite how to describe the look in her eyes. "Did you notice anything?" he directed the query at Natalie.

"No, but things have been a little chilly between Layla and me recently. Teenagers, they think they know everything."

Look," Steve took a deep breath. "There is a simple explanation."

"Steve," Josie said warningly.

"You think they fell asleep afterwards?" Warren said dryly.

"It's possible." Josie and Natalie both glared at him. He returned the look. "You two can lecture and guilt trip the kids all you want, but they are teenagers and THAT is a force of nature."

The pyro sighed. He knew this was a prickly subject with Layla's mother. "Will was tired of waiting."

"I just didn't want her to make the same mistakes I did?" Warren didn't know if she talking to him or herself.

The minutes ticked by. No one said anything. At one am Natalie Williams made the decision.

"Steve, called Command Central and tell them you think Will's been abducted."

Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High

COMMAND CENTRAL: EAST COAST, NORTH AMERICA DIVISION

"Sir," one of the interns, Lori, knocked on her boss's door. It was little more than a glorified cubical. The wall was decorated with citations and pictures of famous baseball players.

"The Commander is on line one for you," she squeaked out. It was third shift. There were a lot of newbies on watch.

He showed a modicum of surprise before dismissing her. He grasped the phone. He knew this call could make or break his career. "Yes, Commander. This is Gregory Stark."

"Mr. Stark, are you the highest ranking officer on active duty in security?"

"Yes sir, I am. I hold lieutenant rank."

"My son and his girlfriend cannot be accounted for. Curfew was eleven. Will knows a half-hour or so will be tolerated, but not this long. He cannot be reached. It has been drilled into him to always carry his communication device. His friends claim no knowledge of his whereabouts. They're good kids. Will has never done this before, but he is seventeen and I have been riding him a little hard recently."

"I see." _The teenage son of two of the world's most powerful Superheroes is missing, but maybe he's making out with his girlfriend somewhere. Joy and delight. _The night log states you've already made an unofficial call. My people have been checking local hospitals, police departments. No leads. Your son can fly, I believe." Stark thought of all the enemies the Commander and Jetstream had made over the years. "Sir, you know your son better than I do. Do you want me to initiate a Category 1 Child Abduction?"

"Yes."

"When can you and your wife be here?"

"Ten minutes."

After ending the phone call Stark pulled away the clear aluminum cover encasing five gleaming switches. He pressed the first one. The effect was instantaneous. A red klaxon blazed to life.

The twenty of so security/technical staff on watch all spun as one to the alarms.

He left his office to address them. The room was buzzing with conversation.

He held up his hand. The room fell silent. "Everyone look at your console please. We are working under the assumption that the minor son of the Commander and Jetstream and his girlfriend have been abducted. These facts have yet to be verified. All relevant personal information will be available in under sixty seconds. Johnson, start protocol search one. Majara, I want a detailed listing of the most dangerous supervillains who may have a grudge against this family. Oslie: check the security tapes over the last three-month of any chatter. Wehymeier: look for a civilian terrorist connection. Wickets: check the internal security logs – do we have any on going investigations which may have baring on this.

Majara raised her hand. She was in her mid forties – a lifer who thrives at night. "I need assistance to complete that report in under an hour. "

"I'll call computer support for back up. I will also be notifying Major Logan. He will probably come in with his people." It was a credit to Stark's professionalism that he kept his voice even. Everyone knew he and Logan mixed like oil and water.

"Olson," the same timid girl who had first told him the Commander was on the phone raised her hand. "Keep scanning civilian airways for accidents, natural disasters. The boy has his mother's power so they could theoretically be anywhere."

"You," he pointed to a kid barely out of school. "What's your name?"

He stood a little taller. "Kevin Jenkins, sir."

"You went to Sky High?"

Kevin nodded, "Yes."

"Call Principal Powers. You'll find the number under educational support in the computer. Tell her what has happened. Ask her to call the kid's teachers. Do they have any insight into this? The school is a hotbed of gossip. The girl's name is Layla Williams. Her mother is the** Z-Translator.  
**

Baker, Shambaro, Shmiato will be heading up the physical search. I expect the parents here soon. After we interview them, we should have a better idea what we are up against.

"People, I want a plan of action within the hour."


	7. Chapter 7

Warren put aside the book he pilfered from the wall shelf as a bad job. He debated digging around for **Order of the Phoenix** but that would mean going up to Will's room -- the unmade bed, clothes haphazardly tossed on the floor – he just didn't need that right now.

So far his stimulating activities had been speaking to his mother and Zach, raiding the Stronghold fridge (leftover Olive Garden), and surfing the net. He had CNN on mute.

He was proud of himself. He hadn't flamed once. Considering the combination of fear, frustration, and boredom twisting his insides, it was fortunate the Stronghold's living room furniture hadn't been reduced to kindling.

Outside the sun was rising. There was a crispness in the air; a light pink glow illuminated the east horizon.

Layla would be getting up about this time. She'd pull her hair back, dress in loose fitting clothes, and leave the house armed with a plastic watering can. The city flowerbeds she tended were magnificent.

To get Will out of bed at this hour would require brute force.

A thought, unlooked for, despondent; was this the first sunrise after Will's death?

He shoved his hands through his long hair. Thinking like that was the fast track to hell.

Will was far too valuable to kill.

He pushed aside a window curtain.

He wondered if Will knew it was sunrise.

_ SkyHigh SkyHigh SkyHigh Sky_

Layla felt as if she was swimming through molasses. Her throat was parched. It was cold. She snuggled deeper into a blanket. Why was it so cold? It was June.

It wasn't supposed to be this cold in June.

Somebody was calling her name. The voice was familiar. She forced her eyes opened. Will leaned down and kissed her full on the lips. Even after the kiss ended, he still looked wretched.

The surroundings crashed around Layla. Her eyes opened wider in almost Will-like fashion.

"This place is right out of Better Prisons and Gallows," he joked.

Layla made herself respond. It was either laugh or shriek. "You think so? Everybody knows the clean, metal look is all the rage. And without bars, it couldn't even qualify as retro."

"And what about the lack of dripping water. That's a disgrace. If Mom was hear she'd draft a letter of complaint."

The walls did look dry. Layla's heart sank. Water tended to lead to vegetation. She fought down a stab of hysteria. Freaking out wasn't going to help. Will rubbed her shoulders.

Layla noticed a dark stain on her sleeve. She fingered it, then looked down at her chest. The beautiful apple green top was also stained with blood.

"You've got a little blood on your face," Will told her. "You must have had a nose bleed."

"What is the last thing you remember?" Layla asked him.

"Thinking I was finally going to get laid," he sounded rueful. "I think the wine was spiked. I woke up here a couple hours ago. I haven't seen anybody. Layla, you know things look bad for your aunt."

Layla looked uncertain. "But why?"

"You said she had money problems."

"Lot's of people have money problems, Will. She's my mother's sister." Layla was torn between defending Aunt Miranda and admitting Will had a point. She decided to not deal with it right now. "I guess it would be too much to wish they'd grabbed our shoes," Layla wiggled her bare toes. "Any idea where we are?"

"I think underground. I guess in a couple hours they'll want me to talk to Dad. We'll probably be rescued by Commander and Jetstream in full battle mode in twelve hours. This place will a nothing compared to dealing with my parents over this." _If he said it often enough, maybe he'd believe it._

She tugged one of the blankets around her shoulders. Her lower lip started to tremble.

"Do you want some water? Or wash your face. There's a sink behind the stall."

Layla got carefully to her feet. She felt a little dizzy. The concrete floor bit painfully into her bare soles. She stepped over a metal chain. It ran from Will's ankle to the wall. It was definitely the most high tech thing in the room. The metal gleamed with a blue tint. Probably reinforced titanium. This abduction was expensive. The wall bracket was a combination of what looked to be plastic (but certainly wasn't) and more blue tinted bolts. The skin around the bracelet was ugly. She glared at Will.

"It won't budge."

"Give me your hands." Will ignored her so she grabbed at his wrist. He scowled but gave in. His palm was raw and spotted with blood.

"Did you have to bludgeon yourself to find that out?"

"You don't understand," he nearly yelled. "I wake up here, chained to the floor. You're wearing sexy nightclothes and I can't wake you up. I have super strength." He pulled futilely on the chain. "This isn't suppose to be happening."

Layla went over to the sink. It was primitive, but functional. She greedily gulped the cold water and washed off her face and hands. She wiped her hands on her pants. She gathered up a pile of toilet paper, wetted it and went back to Will. She cleaned off the blood as well as she could from his ankle.

"Give me your hands."

Looking like a little boy being reprimanded for being naughty, Will crawled over to her. She wiped off his hands then kissed his palm.

"Have you tried yelling? It would be less destructive. Maybe somebody will come and tell us something?"

"No." Will didn't want to say that the last thing he wanted was some thug or supervillain seeing him weak, and Layla unconscious.

Layla tossed the wet tissue paper away and, ignoring the pins and needles coming from her feet, went to stand next to one of the four walls. Obviously, they didn't think she was worth pricey metal restraints. Typical male chauvinists. She spent the next hour examining every inch of the wall. She was looking for any water or crack that she could exploit.

She found nothing. Dejectedly, she dropped back down next to Will.

"So what now?" she asked.

"We wait."

_SkyHigh SkyHigh SkyHigh SkyHigh SkyHigh_

Josie Stronghold dropped a couple of ice cubes into her coffee so she could gulp it down. It was all about the caffeine. She wandered down the dark corridor to get away from the noise. There were maybe a hundred people on the main security floor working on finding her son.

She would catch them looking at her surreptitiously. Some looked at her with pity, others awe. Some were high on the adrenaline of the event. A few gleamed with a political eye; careers had been made from less than this.

The worst were the shiny button crowd. A good dozen high officers had rushed in as soon as they'd heard.

She hated them most of all. Her personal pain was being made into a sideshow.

She'd nearly lost it when Steve told her the President was on the phone for her. She spent five minutes listening to his trite platitudes and victory by slogan attitude before ending the call.

A sharp wail rang out, the unmistakable sound of grief. A terrible, cold horror filled her. Her complexion went as white as salt.

"Oh God," the coffee cup dropped from her nerveless fingers. She ran down the hall to find Natalie Williams gasping and sobbing on her husband's shoulders.

"Mrs. Stronghold, do not be alarmed," Stark had run to intercept her. "We don't have any news about your son or Ms. Williams," he assured her.

"What is going on?" _Get a hold of yourself. You cannot panic._

"There has been a distressing development. I had to tell Mrs. Williams that her sister was found dead in Germany just under half an hour ago."

Her relief was bitter. "How, what happened?" Josie asked.

"She was strangled. We are investigating the matter fully. I have suspected for some time that Mrs. Williams's sister had some knowledge of this matter. Her coming to town suddenly, spending time with her niece, then leaving just as quickly. It was suspicious under the circumstances. I have sent a team to the Maxville Regency. I understand that is where Ms. Hopkins spent her last night in the city. Two teams have been dispatched within a five-mile radius of the hotel. I believe this is our first break in the investigation.

Josie blinked. "Good. I'm going to see Nat." Her daughter was missing and now her younger sister was dead.

"Lieutenant," Steve turned Natalie over to his wife and signaled for Stark to follow him.

"If someone wanted to lure my son into a trap, a very effective way to do it would be to offer him a hotel room for several hours.

_No kidding. "_That thought had occurred to me. Mr. Stronghold, I wanted to discuss a few issues with you. We've reconnected all phone calls to your home to be transferred here. I expect the kidnappers will contact us within a few hours. Keep them talking as long as possible. I will be listening when they call. Do not give them an ultimatum."

"I know the drill."

"No you don't. Not for your son you don't. His abduction will not be reported on civilian news channels. It is being handled entirely in-house. Were you planning on calling your father?"

Steve hadn't even given Dad a thought.

"He will certainly hear about it through the grapevine." Stark warned him.

"You're right. I'll call him in a few hours, my family in California too. Some friends of ours," Steve tried to gather his thoughts. "I'd rather they hear from me what's going on. Not that's there's much to tell," he tried not to sound bitter.

"And your wife's family? Since she's first generation, it could be kept from them if she wanted."

"Josie is not really close to her family. Her mother died to cancer several years ago and her only sister was killed during Barron Battle's rampage through downtown Maxville. Her brother spends six months of the year on an oil refinery platform. We had to have her Dad's memory altered? He thinks we're just realtors."

Stark was intrigued. Altering a citizen's memory was last resort. "He was threatening to go public?" he asked.

Steve nodded. "It was a very hard decision. Joe was . . . he's not a bad guy but he's old school. Josie was suppose to get married, preferably another Italian-American, and have babies. She's not going to want to call him."

One of Stark's people came up and whispered in his ear. "It's her decision. I'll send someone over with a phone. If you will excuse me?" he hurried away.

Steve was lost in his own thoughts. His son was in the power of murderers. Stark could talk all he wanted about ultimatums but he was going to let these assholes know whom they were dealing with.


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you to all those who have reviewed. I decided to introduce Baron Battle next chapter._

_I've reached over 1000 hits on this story today. I'm really happy about that, but how bout some more reviews. I know people are reading the story. Even if it's only good job, reviews keep me going._

"Steven," the familiar, authoritative voice seized his attention.

Steve spun around, surprised etched on his face. He hadn't been so easily rattled in years, but exhaustion and fear had taken its toil.

Samuel Stronghold's expression was, as always, perfectly composed.

As a child Steve had worshipped his father. He didn't believe he could do any wrong.

Steve was no longer a child.

His father proffered his hand. Steven reached out and shook it. The Colonel hadn't hugged him when he was nine and his mother died, why would he start now.

Samuel Stronghold a.k.a. The 'Colonel' had been the premier Superhero of his generation. His accomplishments were second to none. His hair had gone white and his face was craggy but he still looked like to could tackle six alien robots before breakfast.

"Why did I have to hear about this second hand?"

"I'm sorry," Steve said, and meant it. "I was going to call you later. How did you find out so soon?"

"One of my old sidekick's son-in-law is on the Security Council."

"I'm surprised that a sidekick has your home phone number. I assume it's not the one who tried to drop you into a burning pit of lava."

"I guess I opened myself up for that one. I have few companions who remember the old days and have the old sensibilities. Marian Foxworth was more worthy than most of my good opinion."

_That answers it. You did get along rather well with Marian as I remember._

"Beggars can't be choosers," Steve needled him. The old hurt resurfaced. "A lead has been uncovered but no one knows where Will is? We think the kidnappers will contact us soon." The waved at the phone at his belt. "This phone is patched to my house, thought I suspect they'll call here."

"Steven, I know you are loath to follow my advice but you need to speak with General Thor."

Steve didn't understand. "Why?"

The Colonel looked around to make certain no one was close enough to overhear. The staff was giving them a wide berth. "I've done some checking into the officer running this investigation. His commanding officer was struck with a kidney stone attack last evening. The next in line claims he is too far removed from the day to day operations to take charge, but if you make a personal appeal to Thor, they will have no choice but to replace Stark."

Steve had no idea what his father was getting at. "And why should I want him replaced. I've found him very competent."

Steve could almost hear his father grinding his teeth. "If you were aware . . . "

Steve cut him off. "Let me guess, he's a sidekick. Look around you, Dad. I bet seventy percent of the staff are hero support. I like that he's a sidekick, it means he had to wrk for his rank."

"Are you willing to place your son's life in his hands?"

Steve flinched. "What fucking choice do I have? Give me a reason and I'll boot him out myself, but not because he's a sidekick. And you have a lot of nerve talking about Will like you care about him."

Neither one said anything for a moment. It was funny, how a silence could be so loud. "Of course I care about Will," Stronghold elder told him. "Why do you think I'm such a monster?"

Steve took a deep breath. "I know you care about Will. I don't think this is the time to get into other issues."

"I concur. Where's Josephine."

"She's with Natalie Williams. That's Layla's mother. She's very upset."

"This must very traumatic for her. Why don't we sit down and get one of these competent sidekicks to rustle us up some breakfast. I think you could use it. Then I would like a full briefing," it was obvious to Steve that his father was trying to be polite. Well, if Dad could try, it would be churlish of him not to.

"Fine."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

"Robert," Chief of Staff Ted Strickland hurried down the corridor. "Thank you for coming. I know you've got a lot on your plate."

"It's no trouble," he lied smoothly. He was an old hand at these conversational gambits.

"I'm a little surprised to see you. I thought The Colonel would brief us."

One rule in dealing with the White House, never give them more information than necessary. "He's a bit under the weather. Who will I be speaking with?"

"The President, myself, the Secretary of State, deputy to the Joint Chief. There'd be more but it's Sunday."

Blane blanched, just a bit. This was unexpected. "There is no need to bother the President with this."

"Oh, the President insisted. He wishes to promote closer ties between the Superhero and civilian societies."

_And polar bears are ice skating in Hell._ What the President wants is to bring metahumans under his jurisdiction, Archer thought as he was escorted into the Oval Office.

"Mr. President,' the Hero nodded to the leader of the free world.

"Mr. Archer I believe," he was not without charm. "Have a seat."

Everyone sat. "Saturday afternoon two members of our community were abducted." Blane told him.

"That's terrible," the President seemed genuinely saddened. "Do I know them?"

"No sir."

"How are they important?"

"One is connected to a high profile Hero. We advise putting the country on Orange alert, just as a precaution. We have put all of our staff on standby and moved some of our people to the East Coast."

"Why the East Coast? Do you expect an attack on the capital? Is there an East Coast connection?"

No one ever said the President was stupid. "We have locked down the supervillain prisons and stepped up surveillance on persons of interest. I promise you, we are in charge of the situation."

"You people say I need to put the country on Orange alert like I'm opening a bank account. What excuse am I suppose to give?"

"Say it was at our request."

"You do know this will cause the Dow to drop 600 points. Or is this country's economy too insignificant to interest you?"

"Sir, if that is the only repercussion, we should all be grateful."

The President was clearly furious. "Per our charter, I have little choice. I deeply regret my predecessors have left me so crippled when dealing with you people." He stood up. Blane stood also. " I hold you to your statement that your people are in control of the situation. If there are other repercussions besides Wall Street, public opinion may shift against you."

Blane caught the threat -- heck, Steve Stronghold might have even caught it. "Good day Mr. President."

After he left, the President turned to his chief aide. "Do you know anything?'

"Somebody's kid was abducted. Don't know who but it's big -- and it sounds like there's an East Coast connection."

"Pretty careless of them."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

CNN Headline news broke away from footage of people fleeing torrential rain to report the Orange Alert. Warren immediately shook off his stupor.

"We have just been informed by Homeland Security that the threat level Orange is in effect. This is at the recommendation of the SuperHero community. The White House, Homeland Security, and Superhero Command declined to provide a specific reason for the increase in threat level, but unverified sources indicate there has been a terrorist incident within the Superhero community. As soon as we have more information to give you, we will update this bulletin."

Warren let out the pent up breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

It had begun.

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

It was eight thirty in the morning. Will and Layla were too nervous to make small talk. They were sitting together, cross-legged on the mattress. They both jump up when the door opened.

It was rather anticlimactic. Their jailer was maybe forty, blond, clean-shaven, dressed in a blue sweatshirt and jeans. He looked just like any other blue color worker. Of course, Will told himself, he might be able to throw them against the wall with his mind or make the room's oxygen unbreathable.

"Aren't you a little underdressed for a supervillain."

He surprised the teens by grinning. "Are you always this much of a smart ass, Mr. Stronghold?"

"Being drugged, abducted, and chained brings out the best in me. You do realize my parents are going to kill you."

"I'm certain the Commander and Jetstream are very upset at the moment "

"You know who my parents are and you still did this," Will shook his head in disbelief. "Maybe you ought to see a shrink about this death wish."

"You should feel flattered. They've just put the country on Orange alert and your community is at Red."

_Red, my parents are going to kill me._

"Not your community," Layla asked, speaking for the first time.

He looked at her. "I'm not like you. Just hired muscle. I wouldn't use that as an excuse to try anything. I don't have any particular grudge against your lot. If I can't handle you, your next jailer will have a grudge. My name's Peterson."

"What do you expect me to do?" Will said bitterly, rattling the chain for effect.

"Make a fuss – mind you, nobody will hear it. As for that chain, it is reinforced triple titanium. So is the wall clamp. Your ankle will break before it does and there isn't anybody here to set it. He spoke dispassionately as if they were discussing the weather.

"Can I speak to whoever is in charge? Maybe I can help negotiate?"

"He's busy and he doesn't need your help." He turned around and picked up something that was behind the door. It was a breakfast tray. He held it out to Layla. She came to collect it.

"When I come back you're going to call you father and tell him you're all right -- which is the truth."

"Wait," Layla called. Will scowled at her. She ignored him. "Can we have some jackets or sweat shirts and socks? Also towels and warm water and a tube of Neosporin ointment?" This Peterson seemed reasonable so she figured she had nothing to lose."

"Pretty girl like you, I bet you're used to getting whatever you want. Tell lover boy to behave himself with Daddy on the phone."

He closed and locked the door after him.

"Don't talk to him!" Layla couldn't ever remember seeing Will look so angry. Even with Royal Pain, he was more in control.

"I don't know about you but I'm cold," her temper was just as frayed. She put the tray down so she could better spar with Will. "You're not the one wearing pajamas."

"Don't," Will enunciated, "draw attention to yourself."

"Please," she rolled her eyes. "I'm only here to control you. Nobody is interested in me."

"And I'd like to keep it that way," he spoke with such force that Layla nearly took a step back.

She forcefully bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

Will looked devastated. He pulled her to him. "I'm sorry I yelled.'

She wanted to pretend that she didn't catch the drift of his meaning.

He wanted to pretend the thought had never occurred to him.

They both wanted to pretend that they hadn't woken up here.

"Layla, I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He pressed his lips against her forehead. He knew he sounded trite, but it was in his nature to protect the vulnerable. It was in his heart to protect Layla.

Okay, maybe he didn't have the faintest idea how to go about it, but that never stopped him in anything before.

She looked up at him. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that was a promise he couldn't make, but she didn't. She kissed him sweetly on the lips, then pulled away from him. She bent down by the food tray. Will followed suit.

It was better than they could have hoped. A couple of boxes of frosted flakes, cartons of milk and orange juice, toast and an orange and apple. There was paper bowls and spoons. Layla cracked open the cereal boxes.

"So what are you going to say?" Layla asked. The air was thick with tension and intimacy.

Will looked up, his mouth full of cereal. "Dunno. It's kind of embarrassing."

"Are there any clues you could drop?"

"Just look for a concrete cell. I think we're still on the East Coast."

"Will, we are underground. I'm positive of that."

Will swallowed. Layla would know, but saying that could get them in trouble. He didn't care for himself. . . but Layla. Will peeled the orange and offered part to his girlfriend.

Before long, Peterson was back. He was caring a laundry basket. He kicked the basket into the room. It contained everything Layla had asked for, plus a comb, toothbrushes, and toothpaste. He tossed the phone to Will.

"We've set it up to bounce off three satellites. We'll cut the line before they can trace the call."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

Steve didn't really feel hungry but he forced himself to eat the eggs and toast.

His father was having no problems finishing off a large breakfast.

Josie had come over. She'd nibbled on some toast. She'd told them that Natalie had been sedated.

It struck Steve suddenly. This was the first time the three of them had shared a meal since he'd told his father Will didn't have any powers.

"Commander," one of the aides rushed up to the family group. "Lieutenant Stark wants you to come to his office right away. We've heard from the kidnappers."

They all took off at a dead run. A couple of employees had to flatten themselves against a wall to avoid being bowled over. About half a dozen people were gathered around Stark's desk.

The speakerphone was on.

Stark was obviously in charge. He spoke into a small microphone. "It will take several days to gather such a large sum of money. "

Steve and Josie shared a look. Supervillains had safer ways of obtaining money they kidnapping children of well-known heroes. Sensitive electronic equipment, weapons, biomaterial, the release of prisoners, that was what they had expected the ransom demand to be.

A disembodied voice answered. "I am aware of that."

"In the meantime, if we could speak to Will or Layla. If I know they are alright, it will allow me to process your demands quicker.

The odd voice answered again. "That was anticipated."

Stark reached out and hit a button; then picked up the phone. "Would one of you like to take it privately?" he asked. "We will tape it of course."

Steve took the phone. He was grateful for Stark's sensitivity. This conversation was hard enough without the room sharing it. He held the phone to his ear and waited for a click.

"Will."

"Dad."

Steve hadn't realized he was holding his breath. "Will, Thank God, are you alright?"

"I'm okay. Layla's okay. She says we're underground. I'm sorry about this," he rushed the words out.

There was something in that sad voice which turned all of Steve's fear and anxiety into burning anger and resolution.

Whoever had done this, they had no idea what they had brought down on themselves.

"Don't," Steve's voice choked. "Don't worry. Your mother and I are going to get you back."

Suddenly the phone went dead.


	9. Chapter 9

_I had some great reviews – thanks to all. _

_I'm rather proud, I kept my weekly chapter update record intact. I didn't think I would this week._

_I do not own Sky High. This fic is merely for enjoyment. I am making no money off this enterprise._

The guard scanned him three times. Warren had been visiting Maxville Supervillain Pen since he was nine. This was the first time he'd been subject to a triple scanning.

"Is this going to take much longer?" Warren finally asked. His schoolmates would be amazed at his urbane tone

_He_ wouldn't be the one to pay the price for jerking off the guards.

The guard – Walters per his badge – pushed a button and the door slowly opened. "We're on Red alert," he answered as if that explained it all.

Warren's face became a hard mask again. "I know."

"I guess I could look on the bright side," Walters commented as he patted Warren down. "We finally got the new armor." He lifted up his arm so Warren could see the armplates. "We requested them two years ago."

"I guess it's true about every cloud having a fucking silver lining."

The guard moved aside awkwardly, allowing Warren to proceed him down the hallway. He stopped outside a familiar floor square. Silently an opening appeared directly in front of Warren.

When Warren Peace, a nearly six-foot tall, angry, adolescent pyrokinetic started Sky High, the whole student body knew his father was serving three consecutive life sentences – whatever the hell that means. So, what is a nearly six-foot tall, angry, pyrokinetic to do under these circumstances?

His mother told him to ignore the other students snide remarks and they would stop.

They did stop, after he put one senior Hero in the intensive care unit.

_Boy, was Mom pissed about that._

So, his bad ass, possibly psychotic reputation firmly established, Warren strolled happily into the school's detention room only to be brought crashing back to earth when he felt that same skin crawling sensation he felt when he visited Dad.

Except the prison's neutralizing system was 100 times more powerful.

Will hadn't known it, but he could have powered up if he really wanted to.

He figured Stronghold would brag about his new found powers, promising to finish what Warren had started.

Instead he offered him his hand. Nobody had ever done that to him before.

"Warren!"

Warren realized his father had been calling his name. He dropped into a chair. "Sorry. I'm a little short on sleep."

"How much longer did it take you to get through security, and be exact?"

Warren looked at his watch and thought about it. "Can't be exact. I never been bored enough to time it, but I would say twenty minutes."

"Damn, I was down for thirty."

"Who won the pool?" Warren asked.

"I think Storm Caster. Bastards already smug enough." His father stretched out his legs. "How are you holding up?"

Warren shrugged. "Do you remember when I was seven and two boys tried to steal my baseball mitt?"

"Of course I do."

"No bright shiny neon flashing trucks showed up this time."

"What about Paris?"

"It's beautiful in the spring."

"Warren, that's not what I meant and you know it."

He shrugged. "Will was going to fly me." His Dad looked utterly disgusted. "It was either that or give up food. I don't have the money for a ticket. Mom's already in debt up to her eyeballs."

"And you don't want to leave Maxville right now?" It was more statement than question.

"You know how it is. Moth to the flame."

"Screwing your own future isn't going to help him, son."

"My future, my call."

He sighed. "I never thought the day would come when I helping save the Stronghold dauphin. Lucky for you these Marquis de Sade wannabes get to be a little too free with their tasers during a Red Alert."

Warren was so exhausted he let his typical dispassionate mask slip. "You know something."

"I'm in prison, not on the moon. The better question is what I don't know? But first, is it true that the lead officer is Gregory Stark?"

Warren thought. "I heard Mrs. Stronghold mention someone named Stark."

"He's smart, cautious, and willing to think outside the box. And that is what you need."

"Keep going."

"There hasn't been a whisper that anything big was in the works. I've checked. It's not that I was out of the loop, there was no loop. If a villain is planning something this big, there would have been chatter – vague and unconfirmed, but it would have been there.

"Second, and more important, a villain would have to be either insane or vengeance obsessed to bring down the wrath of Command and the Stronghold family.

"And we know how rare that is," Warren said, deadpan. "Supervillains being such balanced individuals."

Battle ignored his son's dig. "If this was done for payback, Mommy and Daddy would have been called directly – and sent a tooth for identification and a note asking if a femur bone would be more helpful. There is an unwritten rule about targeting family members, especially kids. Power hungry villains respect that rule. We have families too. Ant-man, a pretty harmless villain as they come, is in a coma from excessive taser use. That happened because the Commander's son was kidnapped."

"Is it true that they've asked for a hundred million dollars ransom?" his father asked him.

Impressed with the prison grapevine, Warren nodded.

"Money can be obtained in ways that do not include pissing off the whole community. It just not done."

Warren thought about the clues his father had given him. 'What about a rogue scientist?"

Baron's eyes lit up. "Smart boy. Perhaps you got more than your powers and good looks from me. Maybe a techie, or ever a very talented sidekick, but scientist is my bet. This whole plan has an _I'm so much cleverer than you_ _are_ stink to it. Do you think they like brain trusts like the Strongholds breaking their toys and basking in all the glory?" he didn't even know his voice had taken on a derisive tone.

"Medulla likes to complain about Will being on the next box of Wheaties. He wouldn't have scraped that B minus without my help. So, do you have any names?"

He handed Warren a piece of paper with a half dozen names on it. "The first name is Maximus. He ran afoul the ethics committee about ten years ago. Went underground. He had a civilian sister who was a junkie --not common knowledge. Nothing was ever proved again him, but about fifteen years ago a colleague he was butting heads with died from a designer drug overdose. The man was known for risk taking behavior so it was filed as accidental death. I understand the autopsy of Layla Williams's aunt showed heroin use and other unidentified drugs."

"I don't know about that, but I'll ask." He pocketed the note. "So, is that all?"

"No." his father's frowned a bit. "There is something else about Maximus you should know. I'm assuming you've heard of the Scarlet Witch."

All Warren's fatigue was blasted away. "Scarlet Witch," he nearly whispered the name.

There wasn't too many worse than her. Isabeau Wittelsbach, descended from Bavaria royalty. Her brilliance only surpassed by her beauty. She's a mesmerist. The Scarlet part came from her unnatural fascination with human blood.

"She was part of my required reading for the European internship. She has never operated in this country before. Why start now?"

"She has had dealings with Maximus before. His specialty is sound waves. She can only control a few people at a time, and she has to be speaking directed to them. Imagine if her powers could be amplified."

"A megalomaniac, narcissistic mesmerist with a bullhorn. That's a comforting picture," Warren said.

"If Maximus is involved . . . well her involvement would be a long shot, but I wanted to warn you. I met her once," something flickered in his father's eyes. "She's dangerously perverted."

The guard rapped sharply at the door. Visiting time was over.

_ Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High_

Warren returned to the Stronghold resident to find Will's parents and Natalie Williams raiding the refrigerator. It was stocked up with casseroles and side dishes. Ethane's mother had organized it all.

They hadn't started eating yet. He sat down and went through everything his father said, leaving out the bit about the Stronghold dauphin.

Josie clutched the list in her hand like it was a lifeline. Suddenly her face became even more gaunt. "Why in the Scarlet Witch on here? She's never left Europe."

"Maximus's specialty would be particularly useful to her and they have had contact in the past," Warren answered her.

Steve got up and started to pace. _Just like Will, _Warren thought. "The Scarlet Witch." For a moment he seemed to be very far away. "Thank you Warren. I think there is some good information here."

"I'll fly it back right after we eat. Stark's there 24/7," Josie volunteered.

_ Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High Sky High_

At the moment Stark was a very angry man. He was no stranger to office politics and competing interests, but this was a first. He stared incredulously at Marianne Washington, head of espionage.

"You are fucking insane," he enacted every word.

She flinched, just a bit. "I'll let that flagrant piece of insubordination go because I know you're under a great deal of stress."

Stark snorted. "I'm putting together a team to raid Maximus's headquarters. Warn your agent."

She stood up. "I'm overriding your authority in this matter."

With almost superhuman effort, Stark reined in his temper. "It's true, you can counterman my orders. But I have the right and responsibility to inform the Strongholds of the whereabouts of their son."

Washington knew who held the better hand. "Stark," she tried a different tacit. "You heard the report. They are in no immediate danger. Maximum's only interest in the kids is to keep us busy and to use them as hostages if necessary. They're scared, but coping well."

"This operation is two years in the making. I will not see my department's investment of personal and resources squandered. Not when we are this close. The Scarlet Witch is responsible for hundreds of deaths. As long as she is at liberty, she is a threat to society."

"She is also a sexual deviant with a penchant for destroying innocence. Do you want her anywhere near William Stronghold?"

"It won't come to that," she said fiercely.

"I want computer access to this operation in ten minutes. I'll pick my team and put them on standby. When is your agent updating next."

"Every six hours."

"Can he contact you that regularly?"

"We believe so."

"And you swear to God you believe she is in the country."

"Yes."

"Your agent on the scene."

"He is the best," she jumped in. "Worse case scenario, he can take the Witch."

"If he is more than a half hour late in reporting to you, I'm sending the team in."

"And as long as the situation is standard," she held her breath.

"I agree that apprehending the Witch is important, but my primary responsibility is the safety and well being of William Stronghold and Layla Williams."


	10. Chapter 10

Dinner was a subdued affair; consumed more from need than want. They talked listlessly, going over tidbits of information gleamed from colleagues and Stark's briefing.

There were over a hundred voice messages on the Stronghold's 'Hero' line. Steve erased them without listening to them. He knew people meant well, but he didn't have the patience to listen to their trite, sympathetic condolences.

After eating dinner, Warren cleaned up the kitchen (after four years at the Paper Lantern, if was practically second nature). Josie said something about taking a bath. Steve needed to phone his father. The Stronghold house was off limits to all Will's friends when his grandfather was visiting. Warren had never met the legendary superhero, but Layla detested him. That was enough for him.

"Warren." It was practically the first Mrs. Williams had spoken all evening. Warren wondered if she had deliberately waited until the Strongholds left the room. "Do you think this is fault?"

It didn't take a mad genius to guess what was on her mind. "It's a waste of time and energy to claim responsibility of what is beyond your control. I know that from experience. Time and energy are finite, what is finite is divine."

"Layla once said that you don't talk much, but when you do you have an uncanny knack for finding the right words."

Warren shrugged. "Chalk it up to my peripatetic childhood."

"Will's a bit like that too."

She almost laughed at Warren's doubtful expression. "He was always a chatterbox, and regularly suffers from foot-in-mouth disease, but when it's important he can really surprise you. Right now, that's all that's keeping me sane." She pushed back her chair. "Can you let Steve and Josie know I'm going home? I've got to feed Ivy and Lillie Rose and water the plants. I can't let Layla's plant die."

"I'll walk with you." Warren hadn't liked the close-to-hysterical pitch of her voice at her last sentence.

"I can't ask that."

"You're not asking," he said firmly. "I've got nowhere else I have to be. I would like to make a couple of phone calls from your house. Then I could crash on the couch."

She seemed relieved. "The doctor at Command gave me some knock out pills, but I'm scared to take them. If a call came . . . ," her voice trailed off.

"Just let me tell Mr. Stronghold we're leaving." Warren got up and headed toward the study. He found Will's father sitting in the dark. Warren cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm gonna run Mrs. William's home. She's got the pets to feed."

Steve nodded absently.

"I'll probably stay the night. I think she could use the company."

Steve stirred. "That's very considerate of you. She really shouldn't be on her own. She's welcome to stay here, if she wants."

Warren nodded. "I'll let her know."

"Warren," the pyro turned around. "It occurs to me that this is the most we have ever said to each other – excluding sporting events."

"I don't talk much."

"I know you're uncomfortable around me. I'll admit, sometimes seeing you brings back unpleasant memories. You've been a rock during all this. Will was right about you. I'm sorry I'm only telling you this now."

Warren didn't know what to say. The Commander didn't seem to need an answer. After Warren left, Steve roused himself to search of his wife. He found her in a little room down the hallway from their bedroom. Over the years it had become a repository for old furniture and boxes.

He navigated the floor to reach her. "You should come to bed."

She was sitting in a cushioned rocking chair. Rocking slowly.

"I was so stupid. All that fuss about Will sleeping with Layla."

"Josie," Steve knelt down by her. "We both need to get some sleep."

"I called Evan Michaels."

Evan Michaels, a.k.a WindSurfer. He was her first serious boyfriend. "So."

"You know his hero support is engaged to somebody in espionage. Evan always liked to gossip. The rumormill puts the Scarlet Witch in the country."

"Josie, there is no hard evidence that she's involved."

She continued rocking. "He doesn't stand a chance against her."

"Will," Steve choked back a sob, "is strong."

"He has no defense against her." Her fingers buried themselves in the faded arm cushion. It was a teddy bear print material. The tears she had held back for the last days flowed like the breaking of a dam.

He held her.

The closing notes of the Star Wars theme came from a portable DVD player. Huddled under blankets to keep warm, Will and Layla had just finished watching the Star Wars presequels.

So far, being drugged and locked up by unknown person (s) wasn't too bad, Will thought. It was icy cold in the room, but between the sweats and blankets and each other, they were warm enough. Peterson had bought the DVD with lunch. Again nothing fancy, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fruit, cookies, and soda.

So long as one ignored the stomach clenching fear and the fact that their parents were going through seven kinds of hell, everything was just peachy.

During the movies, Will and Layla amused themselves by doing improv Mystery Science Fiction Theatre 3000. They both agreed the mere existence of Jar Jar proved Lucas had sold his soul to the devil.

"The only way to accept the second trilogy is to root for Palpatine. I mean, have you ever seen such a bunch of stuff shirts as the Jedi. They make Supreme Command look like long haired hippies,"

"Hey," Layla objected. "What's wrong with being a long haired hippie?"

Will reached out and tugged at the ponytail Layla had made with some of the lace off her nightgown. "Nothing, if you want to be a peace loving vegetarian with a fondness for hybrid cars and farcical plans to change the world."

She narrowed her eyes; "you don't even know what farcical means."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"How long are we going to play this?"

"Until you admit I'm not as stupid as a bunch of rocks."

"I would never say that," she said primly.

"Good."

"Rocks are inanimate objects. A better analogy would be that pinkish slime Medulla made us scrap off the autoclave. It moved and gurgled -- sorta. Kind of like you first thing in the morning."

Will's eyes opened wide. "You just compared me to protoplasm."

"Actually I compared you to _pink_ protoplasm."

He lunged forward.

"Will," Layla shrieked as she was pushed back on the mattress.

He twisted her arms above her head. "You need to be punished for that." He dropped little kisses down her neck, moving downward toward her top's deep neckline.

The movie's credits finally came to an end. The clang of the chain anchoring Will reverberated around the room.

"Will," she said softly.

"I know." He let go of her wrists and slowly pulled away from her.

Layla pushed herself up. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you tried something."

Will grinned sheepishly.

"That was what surprised me when we started dating?"

His brow creased. "What?"

"My fantasies were pretty much limited to hand holding and a little light petting. Then you try to french kiss at forty thousand feet."

"You didn't complain at the time."

"I was too busy hanging on for dear life," she retorted.

"And in front of your house?"

She colored a bit.

What sounded like a door opening was heard from down the hall. They both looked at the door. It was early for dinner. Will half rose to his feet, then changed his mind. He clasped his arms around his knees, waiting. Layla could see his muscle's bulging.

They heard footsteps coming toward them. Will jumped to his feet. Layla climbing up just after. He reached for her hand.

"Layla, I love . . . ," the door opened.

Peterson was first. Layla thought he looked worried. Another man followed, and last a woman. She moved with the grace of a predatory cat. She was exquisite. Raven hair flowed to nearly her waist. Black eyes and crimson lips shown against her pale, perfect skin. A long red gown fit like a glove.

"So this," her melodic voice was like a choir of angels. "Is the famous William Stronghold?"

Her voice echoed in his head.

Layla felt Will's grip grow slack. Alarmed, she squeezed his hand tightly.

The woman approached Layla. The teenager held her ground. For all her beauty, her face wasn't pleasant to look upon. "What lovely hair you have, my dear. Is it natural?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Does your boyfriend play with it?"

Against her volition a word came to her lips. "Yes."

One long, red tipped finger reached out and pulled the tattered lace constraining her hair. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders.

There was not a peep out of Will.

"Tell me William," she spoke conversationally. "Do you admire the color or the length?"

"Both," he replied promptly.

"But which more?"

Layla watched with horrified fascination as her boyfriend answered. "Length."

She twirled her finger cruelly around one of Layla's curls. Layla bit her lip.

"Did you know long hair is a sexual trigger for him, Layla?"

Mutely she shook her head.

She grabbed Layla's chin. "No one refuses to answer me." She starred into the young girl's terrified eyes. "You'll be punished for that."

"William," like a puppet on a string, Will stepped to her. Layla whimpered. The stranger whispered in his ear, then stepped back.

Will grasped Layla by her arms. His mouth descended on her. She tried to close her lips but he bit down painfully. Her cry was buried as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He pushed her roughly against the wall. One hand effortlessly held her in place, the other moved under her pajama top.

She managed to break the kiss. "Will, stop it." She pushed futilely against him. His knee pressed between her legs.

"That is enough for now, William."

Will released her. Layla sagged against the wall. It took all her willpower to stay upright. She could taste blood on her lip.

Will was blinking rapidly as if the room's light bothered him.

"I have an important appointment with Dr. Maximus. I will see you children later."

Regally she swept out of the room, the men following her. The door was locked behind them.

Layla was breathing heavily.

"Layla," Will asked, confused. "What happened to your lip?"


	11. Chapter 11

Despite established opinion at school, Will Stronghold is not stupid. Sure, he's not as smart as Warren or Ethan or his girlfriend, but he has a 3.3 GPA.

He's not stupid.

He is the third generation of an unbelievably successful power line and the only child of two of the world's greatest superheroes. Will learned that crying after seeing his father smash into a building or his mother getting hit by volts of electricity (thanks CNN) just made everything worse. A sensitive child, Will hated it when his parents were unhappy, and felt worse when they quarreled.

He was too little to understand it wasn't his fault.

He learned to be cheerful, using humor and drama to mask his fears – sometimes even from himself. The downside of this was a high anxiety level; the upside was the ability to keep a cool head in a real crisis.

He didn't badger or entreat Layla for information she was too emotionally drained to share. His Mom was like that after a really bad day. It wasn't easy. She was leaning against the concrete wall, arms clasped around her bent knees in a heartbreakingly defensive stance. He ignored the jackhammering of his heart; he clenched his teeth so he wouldn't hyperventilate. He scooped her up from the cold concrete floor and carried her over to the mattress.

Once on the saggy mattress, she grabbed at a navy blue sweatshirt. Peterson had dropped two off yesterday. Will had put one on, but Layla had wrinkled her nose at it -- it stank of tobacco. Now she pulled it over her head. Will got a good view of her long upraised white arms, they were grimy but not bruised. He swept her hair back for her and took a good look at her neck and shoulders. No bruises.

Other than her swollen lip she didn't seem to have any injuries.

Layla rolled up the sweatshirt sleeves with brisk efficiency. "I'm just a little shaken up."

"And Boomer's just a little egomaniacal."

She cleared her throat and tried to steer the conversation into less torturous waters. "What do you remember?"

"There was a woman, just gorgeous, but not in a modern way. She gave a pretty typical gloating villain speech. She . . .." his brow furrowed. One memory was dominant. "She had a beautiful voice."

"Was it low pitched, high pitched?" Layla asked.

The memory was elusive. He knew the voice as well as his own, but there were no words to describe it. "I don't know. Next thing I remember is you looking like all your plants had died."

_Or that I killed them._

"She must be a mesmerist or something similar. " Layla crossed her legs and rested her chin in her palm. There was a contemplative expression on her face. "That's a textbook description of falling under that power."

"I finally get to be typical." Will grabbed an almost clean washcloth and went to the faucet. At least the water was cold. He handed Layla the cloth. She pressed it gingerly against her throbbing lip.

"Why did I do that?"

"I wouldn't answer her question."

Will's shoulders slumped.

"It's very difficult for mesmerists to control more than one person at a time. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Despite everything he smiled. "You're incredible, you know that."

She rolled her eyes. "If I can survive half the Hero girls gossiping about your slumming every time I go to the bathroom, I can survive anything."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

"Isa, as radiant as ever," Maximus ushered the Scarlet Witch and her companion into his lab. He had been working toward this moment for two long years. There had been a few dark nights when he had nearly given up, had nearly taken the neutralizer her kept in his desk drawer and put it to his temple. But he had persevered through trials, as do all great men, and soon he would be rewarded.

When the Scarlet Witch was the most feared villain in both the new and old world, when others flocked to her banner, he would establish himself as the great intellect behind the new power structure.

It was the oldest axiom on earth, survival and propagation of the fittest.

There was a distinct clearing of the throat. Maximus nodded to Peterson who in turn activated the door's closing mechanism, sealing the room. Both he and Peterson were wearing filtration plugs. It would dilute the witch's power of persuasion.

"I hope your journey wasn't too arduous."

A long suffering sigh. "It was a nightmare. I was smuggled into this country in a flea bitten merchant ship.

Fleetingly Maximus wondered if there were any suicides or brutal slayings among the crew of that ill-fated vessel. Isa's taste in pleasure was unorthodox, to say the least.

Peterson, usually so reticent, had been annoying persistent that he shouldn't allow her near his hostages.

"I think you will find any temporary hardship to be a small price to pay for what I have to offer you."

"I have heard that line before. Generally those who say it live another month." She seated herself in the vinyl chair like it was a throne.

Maximus handed her what a civilian might have mistaken as futuristic jewelry. It was part necklace-part collar. Large knobs were attached to both ends, preventing the formation of a circle. They were dark gray in color and crackled with static electricity.

The Witch could tell by the gleam in his eyes that the scientist was preparing a long-winded and mind numbing speech. She held up one immaculate hand. "I do not dispute that your breakthroughs are the work of unparalleled genius, but I have a bit of a headache and would like to go back to my room and rest.

He flushed darkly. She noticed his eyes did not blink for at least 30 seconds. He was insulted. She smiled brilliantly at him. "There is no need to sulk. You will receive your just accolades."

"I know," he snapped. "Please forgive my bad temper. I suppose I've missed intellectual discourse more than I realized."

She fingered the power device. "Is this gold?"

"I thought you would appreciate it."

She picked up the necklace. It was heavy and stiff. It just barely fit over her head.

"The circuitry will project your power ten fold. You may be able to control three to five people at one time, and once you have established a link, you will be able to trigger it for up to twenty-four hours as long as your voice is audible. You do not need line of sight."

"Ten fold," her eyes glinted. "I will not be able to rule the world with a ten fold projection of my power."

"I've already told you, this is a prototype. I just need better resources and the next one will be a hundred fold. I need to run some tests before I begin stage II."

One delicate hand messaged her temple. "How long will the tests take?"

Maximus gritted his teeth. "It would be best to do them over a matter of days. Everything is set up. We can start now. I've also prepared a room for you."

She thought for a moment. "You have never disappointed before. I will play your guinea pig, but I expect a boon in return."

"Just don't damage them irreparably. They may still be needed."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

Warren absentmindedly rolled a tennis ball to Lily Rose before heading upstairs. He just had one more thing to do before heading home to his own bed. One of Mrs. Williams's co-workers had stopped by. She said she'd stay the night. He'd spent the last two hours on the phone – his mom, Zach, Magenta, Ethan, their parents. He called them because it's what hippie would have done. He spoke to Medulla (the mad scientist had gotten his cell phone number from Mom) for a good fifteen minutes. He said he'd relay the information to the teachers who were interested. Mr. Boy was taking it very hard. He was Layla's faculty adviser.

He came to Layla's bedroom. The door was still open. He could see a bit of moonlight streaming through the open curtains. He crossed the threshold, carrying a large watering can.

A good half dozen flowers and plants decorated the room. He tipped the can's nozzle into each plant. Mrs. Williams said she just couldn't deal going into Layla's room.

Warren Peace – plant savior. He thought about charring a leaf or two, just to let hippie know that he hadn't completely sold out, but decided to avoid the redhead's wrath.

He was already planning on killing Stronghold for this entire fiasco.

Something in his chest tightened. All those stuffed shirts, those holier than thou Heroes who had called up the Strongholds – he wondered how many of them had given Layla a second thought.

He drew a shaking hand over his face. There must have been a few drops of water on his hand because there is no way he was crying.

He turned and left the room. He went downstairs quietly, leaving the watering can on the kitchen counter. He exited through the back door.

It was a nice night. He headed over to the Stronghold's (he should start paying them rent). That's where he'd left his bike.

It was by mere chance more than anything else that he saw Will's parents, dressed in civilian clothes, leaving the house. He took off at a dead run.

Mrs. Stronghold saw him just before getting into the car.

"Stark just called," she told him. "They know where Will is?"

Warren didn't answer; he just jerked open the side door and folded his lanky frame into the back.

Josie climbed into the car. She was about to tell Warren that he didn't need to come when Steve grabbed her arm.

"We might need someone we can trust."

SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH SKY HIGH

They'd barely said a word over the last hour. Will had been lethargic – another symptom of mesmerist control. Layla had curled up against Will. She couldn't help thinking Will's Mom would handle this so much better than she was. Jetstream would have karate chopped Peterson, stolen his keys, single handedly taken out a half dozen guards before rigging a communication device from spare bits of wiring and her earrings.

Layla's big achievement was not becoming a sobbing wreck. Go girl power.

As if the universe didn't hate her enough already, she felt like she was coming down with a cold.

She looked at Will's watch. It was one o'clock in the morning. She'd gone two days without seeing sunlight.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps reverberated down the hall. Layla knew she would have nightmares about footsteps echoing down corridors for the rest of her life.

However long that was.

She poked Will sharply in the stomach. He jerked awake immediately – Layla had spent enough nights with him when they were children to recognize a sign of nervousness. He jumped to his feet. Without realizing it, and for just a minute, he was the spitting image of his father.

Layla followed him up.

Peterson came in first, followed by THE woman, then another man – her sidekick?

"Who are you?" Will asked quickly, hoping he would get an answer.

"I'm called the Scarlet Witch. Have you ever heard of me?"

Will shook his head. Layla thought the name sounded familiar.

"Obviously your school thinks your tender ears are not ready to hear about big bad me." She laughed. Will felt the sensation of cool air rush past him. So strong was the feeling of flight that his feet levitated off the ground. Will tried desperately to focus on the room. It wasn't his best skill. He could feel her power encroach on his mind like poisoned tendrils of smoke."

"You have attention deficit disorder, don't you, Mr. Stronghold," she asked.

"A mild case," Will replied. "It is somewhat difficult for me to focus."

"Your parents also had you hypnotized to inhibit speaking of their dual life when you were little." It wasn't so much a question as statement of fact.

"They had no choice." Will replied quickly. "They couldn't let me blow their cover."

"And they didn't treat your ADD."

"I said I had a mild case. I did fine without medicine."

"I just want you to know, untreated ADD and childhood hypnotism render you vulnerable to my powers."

"Did you hear that Layla? Another childhood trauma I get to blame on Mom and Dad.

He continued, "you talk about your power, but I have a power too. I punch stuff. I know it's not refined or intellectual, but I can break your neck."

She seemed to ponder what he said. "Do you wish to hurt me?"

"I want to go home. I want to see my parents. I want to keep Layla safe. I will do what I have to. You know, there was another pretty brunette who had me wrapped around her finger, or at least she thought she did. That woman is serving a thirty year sentence at Maxville Penitentiary."

"Why are you interested in Will?" Layla got up the nerve to speak. "Surely a woman as sophisticated as you seem to be wouldn't be interested in a high school junior."

"The typical high school junior couldn't catch a runaway train – or have lovely chocolate brown eyes.

"Look," Will said desperately. "Whatever you want, there's no reason to drag Layla into it."

"But you need a playmate." She untied a crimson silk pouch from her waist. She pulled open the ties and proffered it first to Will. Eyeing her guardedly Will put his hand into the bag. It felt like it was filled with marbles. He pulled one out.

It was white.

"Now your turn Layla."

Layla's marble was red.

The Witch clapped her hands. "You've won the first round."

"Don't suppose it's a one way ticket out of here," she muttered.

"Come now," she cooed. "Play pretty with me and you may keep all your fingers." She looked pointedly at her servant. He handed her a leather pouch. She undid the strap and pulled out a knife. It gleamed sharply in the room's harsh light.

"This knife is the same material, though lesser grade, as the chains that are keeping Mr. Stronghold away from me," she said. She leaned toward Layla. "Surely you're upset with him for his rude behavior."

Bright spring sunlight poured on the earth. Layla closed her eyes and luxuriated in the warmth. She had started to fear she'd die in his concrete tomb.

Her eyes first shown bright green, then went slack.

Will watched her warily.

She clumsily grasped the knife's handle and walked a few steps to him.

"Try to disarm her and I'll give you the knife, William," the Witch told him from across the room.

He easily avoided her first two thrusts. The third time Layla tripped over her own feet. Instinctively, Will grabbed her. Layla raised the knife.

A thin ribbon of blood ran down his arm.

With a gasp, Layla woke, swaying slightly. The servant took the knife from her slack grip.

Will grabbed a towel and held it against his arm. This wouldn't be a good time to pass out.

"Madam," Peterson spoke. "Maximus told you to not do any damage."

She pouted. "Oh all right." She held up the pouch to Will again.

He looked at her with furious eyes. "Go to Hell."

She rattled it. Finally, with poor grace, Will pulled out a red marble. He tried desperately to concentrate on his arm. They said pain was a wonderful motivator. As much as he tried, he was little match for the Scarlet Witch.

She handed him a sharp knife. "Do not draw blood." She looked pointedly at Peterson.

Absolutely terrified, Layla trembled, but managed to stay still. She repeated the woman's words like a mantra. _She told him not to draw blood. _

"Will," she couldn't help trying to elicit a response. He very gently gathered large chunks of her hair in his fist and used the knife like a saw.

She stood completely still. She could feel the blunt edge of the knife tickle the back of her neck.

"That will do, William" the Witch snapped. Will stopped immediately.

She seemed rather put out. Will blinked. Maybe it was Layla's imagination, but he seemed to pull himself together faster than before.

"The arm, I suppose," she muttered to herself.

Suddenly Layla sneezed.

If the Witch had been irritated before, her response to this was outright dread. She took a rapid step away from Layla. The redhead coughed again.

She pressed her hand against Will's forehead. He tried to jerk away from her.

She starred balefully at the palm she had used to touch him. "He's feverish."

She turned furiously to Peterson. "Put the heat up. I want them healthy as soon as possible."

She hurried out of the room.


	12. Chapter 12

_My apologizes for this late update. I live in St.Louis We had this storm from hell literally appear overnight. 30 min before it, noting but sun and horrible heat. Next thing you know I'm watching a tree limb fall on my neighbor's car. It helps to have air conditioning and electric to write._

_Also, I think this has been my hardest chapter to write. It's a transitional chapter, not a lot of action. I nearly dropped this chapter, until I finally found my angle._

_So, enjoy and review. I'll be out of town for a couple days next week so Chapter 13 may also be delayed._

"_Warren, you're being stubborn," Will dribbled the basketball closer to the hoop. He rarely beat Warren, coordinated s.o.b that he was, but Will enjoyed playing nonetheless. This time it looked like he might have a chance. Will could tell Peace was off his game. He darted around the taller boy and shot for the hoop. He ball bounced on the rim before sinking threw. _

_Will grinned delightedly. "It's not a big deal."_

_Warren glared at the younger boy. "It is to me."_

"_Look, I know it's kinda weird feeling . . . ." Will began, trying to mimic Layla's soft touch. _

"_Don't tell me what I feel." His face took on a familiar closed expression, like a door had been figuratively slammed shut. _

_Will kept knocking. "Nobody has to know and so what if they do. You can't let other peoples' opinion stop you from doing what you want."_

"_Been watching the lifetime channel again."_

"_Layla likes that maudlin crap. If you dated the same girl for more than three months we could suffer together. It's still good advice."_

"_Easy for you to say," he continued to grouse. "Nobody makes nasty comments about you behind your back." Warren flung the last comment out without a lot of thought. _

_Will's expression went from shocked incredulity to red-faced fury in about 20 seconds. Warren almost took a step backward from his normally even- tempered friend. _

"_I put up with your bad temper cause we're friends, but I draw the line at that bullshit. I'm sick to death of jealousy and spite and people who just want me to fail. Do you know what that's like? To walk to class and wonder how many people would love to see me trip over my shoelaces or get the crap beaten out of me in gym." There was a note of honest, painful bewilderment in his voice. "Everybody has an opinion about me. Only about a dozen people treat me like a real person. It seems everyone else wants something from me and most of the time I don't even know what they want." Will paused and took a deep breath. _

"_Maybe it doesn't measure up to having a father in jail, but don't say I don't know what it's like to be whispered about behind my back."_

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"Warren," Josie Stronghold gently prodded him from his thoughts. He had that fight with Will two weeks ago. The next day he swallowed his pride and agreed to let Will fly him to France. He didn't know why he'd remembered it. Maybe because after turning Will down dozens of times, he was finally flying.

"We're flying over downtown Maxville." She sounded better than she had in days. "Take a look. It's beautiful."

Warren turned his head to look out the hovercraft's window. Ten billion lights blanketed the city; twinkling and gleaming like diamonds against black velvet.

"Will said the city at night was breathtaking. He was right."

"What were you thinking about?" Josie asked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be nosy, but you had a rather pensive look on your face."

"Just something Will told me." He didn't elaborate further. Everybody wants something from me and most of the time I don't even know what. Warren hadn't realized till this moment how very true those words were. He wondered what Will was thinking about right now.

Nobody seemed to have much to say. Josie rested against her husband's shoulder. Warren, his head buzzing from the anti fatigue shot he'd been given thought Mr. Stronghold looked ready to pound his enemies into dust.

"So, when will we get there," he asked Stark.

"Thirty minutes. Any air sickness."

"No."

"Second thoughts?" the older man questioned.

"Not on your life. What about you?"

"A bit. I really shouldn't be dragging you into this."

"Will told me once you shouldn't let other peoples' opinions keep you from doing what you want." Warren rested his head against the window's cool pane and didn't say anything else. He let his thoughts drift back to his first meeting with Stark.

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When they'd arrived at Command, Steve and Josie had practically shoved Warren into a small room with a television and office furniture before rushing off.

He cooled his heels. Mrs. Stronghold had promised him if he kept a low profile and was a good boy, she would try to get him on the rescue team. Screaming out 'fiery tempered teenager with authority issues' would probably be detrimental to his chances.

Finally the door opened. A little nervous, Warren got to his feet. A tall, distinguished looking African-American looked at him appraisingly. Warren tucked his hair behind his ear. He wished he'd had a chance to clean up a bit.

"Mr. Peace," the man extended his hand. "I'm Gregory Stark. I understand you have volunteered to accompany the rescue team."

Warren quickly shut his gaping jaw and shook the proffered hand. "Yes."

Stark sat down at a round table. Warren also took a seat.

Stark got right to the point. "I cannot guarantee you will be afforded the level of safety a trainee is entitled to."

"Fine," Warren said automatically. "I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that. I've read your file. Can I trust you to follow my or the Strongholds' orders?" Stark's gaze drilled into Warren. "I can't afford a lose cannon."

"So the Scarlet Witch is involved," Warren said hoarsely. He hoped desperately that his father was off base. Those hopes were dashed to little pieces and he could only hope that was all that was broken.

Stark's sounded neutral. "Why do you believe that?"

"Pyro's are difficult to mentally control. Too much volatility. And the lady's got a phobia about us. Tried to take one on and it went very badly. That was my ace in the hole for the European slot. They wanted a pyro cause they were scared she was planning something."

"You're right. Espionage's plan to bring in Maximus has netted an even bigger fish. And he has your friends. I believe we can access them easily. Maximus only has a few thugs with him. The agent on the scene has supplied us with a detailed floor plan and disabled ground security. Maximus only abducted your friends as a contingency plan. He knew we were near to apprehending him. He was going to use Will Stronghold as leverage to keep us at bay. Then the Witch entered the picture. In approximately 30 min the villain apprehension team will be leaving. I have been given permission to accompany them. I am independent of them, but I cannot take my own team. It is felt that two teams would cause chaos. Espionage made the argument that they have been preparing for this for months. It was a valid point. Mr. and Mrs. Stronghold can accompany me, not as superheroes but as parents – that's why they're dressed as civilians."

Warren drew in his breath. It was all he could do to keep the flames under control. "I can understand screwing Layla, but how can they do this to_ Will Stronghold?"_

"It's simple, the Scarlet Witch is higher profile that he is. Mr. Peace, I can accept you as my personal intern. Since you've been accepted for a European internship, you do not need to go through the vetting process. I've spoken to M. Rosier. Under the circumstances he has agreed to transfer you. Besides the very real danger, if things do not go well, everyone associated with this will have a black mark on their record. You are young and already have one black mark. A second might have a terminal affect on your career.

Warren just stared at him.

Stark pushed the clipboard across the table to Warren. Warren scanned it quickly before signing it. .

"I've solicited a great many peoples' opinion about young Mr. Stronghold. There is concern that he lacks the necessary ambition and confidence to be effective as a Hero. What do you think?"

Warren snorted. "I could list a dozen idiosyncrasies which drive me up the wall. He has a high anxiety level and can be totally clueless. But he's also tough and sharp and knows how to handle himself in a crisis. Will is a natural leader, he just doesn't like to limelight. There is nobody I'd rather have at my back than him." Warren had to stop to clear his throat. "They'll hurt Layla over his dead body. On her own turf, Layla could wipe the floor with any Hero, present company included.

Once again Stark extended his hand. "Welcome to the team. May God hold us all in the palm of his hand."

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Will tossed fretfully. It was so hot. He tried to push the blankets away but they kept being replaced. His head was lifted, cool fluid tipped down his mouth. He choked a bit.

"_You're not having a good day, are you Will," Gwen Grayson smiled at him. She was wearing a preppy pink outfit that showed off her tiny waist and long legs._

"_Your Dad never would have let this happen."_

_Will opened his mouth to argue but his throat hurt too much to say anything._

_She leaned closer. Her long brunette hair swept against his cheek. "Didn't you learn anything from me. You fell for the same trick twice. That takes really stupidity."_

"_I didn't know. It was Layla's aunt," Will protested. _

"An aunt she hadn't seen in two years. You should have known better. How long do you think it will be before your girlfriend looks for somebody who is not pathetically stupid?"

_It was so terrible hot. It was hard to think clearly. "I'm not stupid."_

"_Let's see, superstrength and the power of flight yet here you are, chained to the wall in a cold dungeon, at the mercy of a sexually deviant egomaniac. Do you think your parents will recover your body? Maybe Layla's mother will let you be buried with her. If you're not thrown into the nearest landfill of course."_

"_Stop it." Will raised his hands to his ears, but her merciless voice continued to lash at him. "Or maybe she'll just make you her puppet. You're halfway there already. You make a good puppet, Will. It might be your one great talent. Not a lot of heavy thinking involved. Of course, you'll never live it down in the Hero community. It will be a lot harder for Layla to save the rainforest if her boyfriend is a complete laughing stock. Still, I guess that's preferable to dying."_

"_We're not going to die." Will tired to get up but something was holding him down. He felt as weak as a half-drowned kitten._

"William!" The voice calling his name was insistent. Will opened his eyes, blinking at the room's sharp light.

"You're not going to die. You're running a high fever, but you're not going to die. Tell me you understand that."

"I'm not going to die." Will said the words with as much conviction as he could muster.

"Good. You need to be strong just a little while longer. You've been very strong. Your parents would be proud of you."

He tried to focus. He turned over on his side and moved closer to her girlfriend. Her cheeks were flushed nearly as red as her ragged hair. She seemed to be sleeping. "Is Layla sick?"

"Same as you."

"No," Will struggled to find the words. This was very important. "She's always a bit sickly in the winter. She doesn't do well without the sun."

"It's going to be all right." Peterson whispered.


	13. Chapter 13

_I don't own anything. Disney does._

Automatic laser artillery splayed across the chamber. Upon impact with the floor, wall, crate, etc. the energy beam would leave a small, compact hole. So far, only inanimate objects had been vaporized, but Warren's beloved leather jacket had suffered a close call.

It was tedious work, render one laser cannon inoperable, advance downhill twenty feet, repeat the same process. A ghost of a smile flittered across Warren' face as Steve Stronghold glared fiercely at the pulverized rock and liquefied ceiling tiles as if they were responsible for Will's abduction. If Will was here his gaze would be volleying from paterfamilias to the debris, all wide-eyed and doubt filled.

The operation had started off textbook perfect -- at least that's what Stark said. Not having actually read the textbook, Warren took his word for it. The hovercrafts had landed about 11:30 pm. Command did have the best toys. Marianne Williamson headed up the espionage team. Warren counted seven in total. He'd learned about them from Stark's dossier. Eric Bolstrom was Hero/Tech. His talent was a creepy Borg-like interface with computers. Mike Stephens and Aiko Takarada were Hero contortionists -- a stupid moniker but that's Command for you. The duo could twist and flip their bodies in ways which would have added another chapter to the Kama Sutra.

A rodent faced man stood at Williamson's elbow. She'd called him Spall. He was loaded down like a pack mule. If that was his power the locker room must have been a bitch.

Warren would bet his My Chemical Romance collection that the tall dude with the ice pick eyes was a mindbender of some type.

Peace knew the last member; a cheerful, plump woman named Callie McNickels because she alone had introduced herself to Warren. She was a healer.

They seemed a competent bunch. They'd obviously trained together long term.

Takarada leaped forward, twisting in the air like a platform diver at competition. Something dropped from her fist just before she ricocheted off the ceiling. Three more back flips landed her next to Warren. She flashed him an impish smile. He arched one eyebrow in return. Asian woman could spike his temp an extra ten degrees. An Asian contortionist . . . good thing the room was dark.

Williamson stepped forward and powered up her extended force field. Everyone shielded his or her eyes.

The granade obliterated the unarmed cannons and three fourths of the wall. A disheartening moaning/rumbling sound reverberated around the room. Warren doubted his leather jacket would survive a cave in.

Williamson dropped her force field. The espionage team advanced forward. Josie placed a restraining hand on her husband's arm. The Commander followed second to Presidents and Prime Ministers and members of the Supreme Council.

"They've gotten us this far," she whispered consolingly.

Like Noah, they traveled two by two along the rough concrete corridor. Spall was scanning the environment for a hundred different dangerous threats. Bolstrom stuck close to the telepath.

Finally they came to an archway. A smallish man, made distinct by his ordinary features was smoking a cigarette. "Chief," he greeted Williamson, crushing the cancer stick beneath his sneaker heel.

"Peters," she wasted no time with good manners. "Status."

"I've disabled all the alarms and defense mechanisms I'm aware of -- which is most of them. I wouldn't put it past Maximus to have a few tricks up his sleeve. I've incapacitated Jon Alters and one of the hired thugs. I don't know where the other is, but he is not a Metahuman. Hendrickson is also unaccounted for. Maximus is holed up in his lab. As far as I know, the Scarlet Witch is in a bedroom sleeping. I believe her sidekick is with her. It's marked 2Aon the map.

Everyone glanced down at an electronic layout of the facility. Warren didn't have one of his own so he looked over Josie Stronghold's shoulder.

As soon as Peters paused for breath, Steve and Josie jumped in.

"My son, where is he?"

Peters acknowledged the couple for the first time. "Your boy and Ms. Williams are fine. I can take you to them."

Six simple words. After all the agonizing fear and dread, was it really going to be that easy.

Williamson opened her mouth, probably to argue. The Commander cleared his throat.

"Just give me a minute," she said. The espionage team huddled together. Peters was obviously giving them directions. After a few minutes he turned, motioned to Stark and led them down one corridor. Williamson led the espionage team in the opposite direction.

Steve's super strength came in handy as he manually pulled metal door after door off its hinges. It seemed to make him happy. After doing this five or six times they reached a flight of concrete stairs.

Josie looked at her watch, nine minutes had gone by.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Maximus watched from the temporary safety of his laboratory as the Command team rushed past his defenses. What does it taste like to have your existence wink to nothingness, to watch your dreams drowned like a lame kitten."

It tastes like bitter almonds. Maximus's poison of choice. It wouldn't kill him, but it would allow him to avoid the embarrassment of being arrested. There were enough Heroes who would tap his skills, even in jail -- especially in jail for him to not despair.

He had a back door of course, but that too had been compromised. He might have been able to salvage the situation if he could have reached the Stronghold boy, but the prisoners' cell was on the opposite end of the complex. He would run right into the government men, and probably the boy's parents.

Roger was still out there somewhere. If Maximus knew him at all, the electricity villain would take a few people down with him.

A sonic boom caused him to flinch. "This is Hero Command, surrender and release your hostages and you will be taken into custody. We are authorized to use lethal force."

_And that's what you get for touching family_, Maximus finished the sentence.

He went over to examine his console. From what he could tell, the defense grid was shut down. When the grid went down, gas would automatically be released into the complex. In high concentrations, it could be dangerous.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You son of a bitch," Lightening Bolt sent a power stream at Peters. He'd ambushed the rescue party. Whether he had a plan or was just striking in anger, Stark didn't know and wasn't going to take a chance. He raised his weapon to fire, but Steve Stronghold beat him to the punch, literally.

There was a sickening crunch as the man's skull was shattered.

Josie's had picked up on the telltale signs of gas in the corridor five minutes ago. She had monitored the concentration, but nothing else. Getting out the masks would have slowed them down.

As soon as the powerful volt of electricity was released she knew what could happen.

The Strongholds and Stark were wearing fire repellent clothes. Thanks to genetics, Warren didn't need to bother. Peters was wearing frayed jeans. He screamed as his pant's leg burst into flame.

Warren, sensing the flame before it barely existed, beat frantically on Peters's leg. Stark slung off his jacket to help smother the fire.

It was over in a minute. Josie rooted around in her med kit for cooling gel. She picked up a pair of scissors to cut away the charred material. Peters whimpered, but he nodded for her to continue. She applied the anesthetic gel.

"So, will I still be able to tango."

"It doesn't look so bad," Josie told him.

"Does anybody see a anti locking device? I must have dropped it."

Warren looked around. There was a piece of deformed metal on the floor. It was sizzling. He picked it up and held it in front of Peters. The man closed his eyes. "Fuck it all."

"Let me guess." Warren flung the key away. It was worthless. "We needed that to get to Will and Layla." _Six simple words my ass._

"We don't need a key." Warren had heard that deep baritone in his dreams when he was little. _Barron, I declare you a threat to society._

"You don't understand." With Warren's help Peters climbed to his feet. "Will is chained to the wall by the most advanced titanium leg brace. He's pulled on it every minute Layla slept. He did manage to loosen some of the screws, but it's still secure. " He gestured down at the molten lump of metal on the gray floor. "That was the manacle's key. There isn't a duplicate available."

The Commander brushed away the man's concerns. "Our combined strength should be sufficient."

The rest of the party wasn't as sure, but what choice did they have?"

"We should get a move on," Stark said. He glanced uneasily behind him. "Warren, assist Peters. Which way do we go?"

"Keep moving down this corridor, then turn right. We're close."

They started off. Warren trailing last. He looked at Peters. "Is there something else?"

"I doused them with a strept pneumoniae infection."

Warren's brows knitted together.

"Desperate times. Things were getting out of control. I didn't expect her."

"The Scarlet Witch."

"First class bitch. She was sinking her claws into the Stronghold kid. He's got a 102 fever and is only partially coherent. We can get the girl out, no problem, but I don't think he'll be able to power up."

"Just leave that to me," Warren said grimly.

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Steve ripped open the door with such force that it took part of the wall with it. His wife was right behind him.

They were unprepared for the sight that met them. Warren, hampered with supporting a lame man, hadn't been able to warn the Strongholds of what Peters had done. Warren heard Mrs. Stronghold's half-fearful, half exasperated scream and speeded up.

"Will," she scrambled over to her prone son. The kids were laying haphazardly on a tatty mattress. Both barefoot, Will was wearing navy blue shorts and a navy blue sweatshirt. Layla was half twisted in a blanket. Steve shook him by the shoulders.

"hmmm," Will turned over and opened his eyes. To Josie, he looked more confused than normal - which Josie knew was saying something.

"Damn. The gas must be have been trapped in this room." She looked at the dull gray concrete, the dirty floor, the empty cereal boxes and paper plates. The air was stale. The room was despair given three dimensions. All it needed was a window slowing a bubbling lava lake and some dismembered corpses.

Her baby had been trapped in this hellhole for three days. Tears welled up in her eyes. She'd spent countless hours insuring that her son turned out well adjusted and happy. Had some asshole just wiped that away?

Josie took a deep breath and adopted her SuperHero personae. She couldn't afford to turn into a quivering wreck. She placed her fingers on his carotid artery. "His pulse is racing. What about Layla?"

Warren dropped down by her, reaching for her wrist. "I can't tell if it's fast or not. Come on hippie." If anything, she seemed to be in worse shape than Will. At least his eyes were opened. Warren grabbed a notebook from under his knee. It looked like Layla had been writing something. His eyes ran over the paper. It seemed to be addressed to her mom.

Under his father's constant prodding, Will had finally opened his eyes.

"Mom. I heard fighting." He started to cough.

A flash of red on the floor caught Warren's attention. He reached over to touch the strands of hair littering the floor. He looked questioningly at Peters.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you after my first shot of Morphine."

"You'll be free in a minute." The Commander braced his feet against the floor. He picked up the chain confining his son, took a deep breath, and pulled.

The metal held. He pulled again. Like a car wreck on the highway, everyone's gaze was fixed on the chain. Even Will was paying attention. He gritted his teeth. Steve pulled until he felt his shoulder might pop from its socket.

Nothing.

"This," he gasped a bit for air, "might take a bit."

Suddenly an explosion sounded from down the hallway. Stark and Warren ran to investigate. Josie had moved Will's head to her lap, caressing his brown hair. He tried to sit up a bit.

"Dad," he croaked out. "I've been trying to break that for three days."

"I can tell," the ring of nasty bruises along Will's ankle hadn't gone unnoticed.

Stark and Warren returned, looking grim. "There's fire all down two corridors. We have to leave soon or we'll be cut off."

Steve dropped the chain. He rested his hands on his knees for a minute, then turned to Peters. "You know the way out of here."

The other man nodded. "Warren, take Layla and go. Josie," he turned to his wife, his partner for twenty odd years. "You should go too. I'll follow as soon as I free Will."

She stared back. "No."

Time was running out. Steve placed his gloved hand on her arm. "Josie."

She wasn't hysterical or crying or coldly detached. "I couldn't live if I lost you both."

Watching them, Warren felt like a voyeur. Steve's voice sounded strangled. "Warren, take Layla and go. We'll follow you shortly."

Warren snorted. "Dad always said you had an ego the size of downtown Maxville. You're so caught up with being the big hero that you don't think. Stark, you carry Layla. I might need my hands free. Mrs. Stronghold, you help Peters. Commander, grab the chain and be ready to pull."

"But what," Steve began. Warren ignored him. His let his right hand flame orange.

Will, this is gonna hurt you a lot more than me 

His left hand pulled up Will's pants leg and placed his burning hand on Will's exposed skin.

Josie yelled at him to stop. Warren ignored her. Will jerked upright, adrenaline doing what nothing else could. His eyes opened wide, typical Stronghold surprised expression. Next Warren practically throttled him. His hand had only cooled slightly. "Stronghold."

Will was having flashbacks to freshman year when he thought Peace was going to bar-b-que him alive. He trembled in the pyro's grip.

There was a wild expression on his face. "You are going to help your father pull this wretched chain out of the wall. There's fire moving to us and nobody is leaving until you do. That includes Layla. Understand."

Will, his face ashen, reached forward. Steve, numb from seeing Warren in action, followed suit.

"On three, Will." Josie said "One, two," she drew a breath, "three."

Warren held his breath. They only had one chance at this before Will passed out.

Father and son pulled. At first here was nothing, then suddenly a bolt rattled. The Commander doubled his efforts. Will couldn't double his.

With a satisfying pop, the chain snapped away from the wall.

Will fell back into his mother's arm.

Stark picked up Layla. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Steve looped the chain around his arm then slung Will over his shoulder.

Peters directed them to the last safe passage.


	14. Chapter 14

_I own nothing. This all belongs to Disney. Please review._

Josie Stronghold felt like screaming in frustration. The soft whirl of mobile crafts, the teeth clenching pitch of the high velocity plasma burners, the clamor from dozens of metahumans of every stripe, the sharp white strobe lights -- for a woman who had lived on caffeine and adrenaline for the past three days, it was nearly unbearable.

Stark had radioed ahead their status. The moment the rescue party crossed from the underground complex to the derelict warehouse, medics swarmed around the kids like bees at a lemonade stand. In short order Will and Layla were layed upon stretchers. Vital signs obtained, nasal cannulas attached to improve their oxygen supply. Layla was hooked up to a dextrose and saline drip. An IV line for Will was out of the question in the field. Instead they forced orange juice down his throat. They called in a metallic Hero to separate him from the ankle chain.

With ruthless efficiency, Josie had been shunted to the side. They'd found her just as cumbersome as the metal chain.

She was only the mother.

Peters had finally gotten the longed for shot of Demerol that had motivated him up ten flights of stairs. He was having his burn dressed. Josie's regard for the man increased when he dropped the hint that he and Will and been hurt in the same accident. Warren didn't need any more nasty rumors.

Wearing masks, Steve and Stark had gone to help the second group. Josie deeply regretted that Natalie wasn't present. She could have left her in charge of the kids and gone with Steve.

The hard liners would praise her to the skies, willing to leave her ill and traumatized son to apprehend villains. The true mettle of a Hero, to put civic duty above blood attachment.

_True mettle my tight ass._ The Scarlet Witch had invaded Will's mind twice; leaving behind God only knows what buttons and backdoors. Josie clenched her fists. _A little outpatient cranium surgery to obliterate the patterns, locking Will and Layla in the secret sanctum until her fingerprints faded. Two years tops._

Once Command got the full report, the decision might not even be up to them. Best interest of the public.

There were approximately five billion people on the planet and Will was among the five hundred most powerful of them. The other 4,999,999,500 would turn on him in a heartbeat if they thought he was dangerous.

_And he thinks his Dad and I are tough on him. _

She had to be apprehended. The other options were not worth contemplating.

"Mrs. Stronghold," Josie was so deep in thought she hadn't heard Warren approach. "Your husband's back." He jerked his head to his left.

"Thanks." People moved aside for her as she went to her partner's side. To the untrained eye, he looked every inch the Commander. Strong, resolute, a modern ages Hercules. Only she could see the worry in his blue eyes.

"What's wrong?"

He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "The espionage team was taken down pretty bad. Three are dead. The Witch got one of them to drop a blast granade into a gas filled vent."

Josie narrowed her eyes. "I can't believe that. She's too fond of her own skin to risk it like that."

"It wasn't that much of a risk," the Commander remembered the dread he felt when Stark broke the news to him. "Maximus built a power boost device for her."

Her eyes narrowed. "She doesn't need line of sight anymore."

"Life is fucking wonderful."

"I hope they managed to at least capture him."

"He's been taken into custody," her husband assured her. "Stark is performing an autopsy on her computer. She can't have left the area. We need to take charge of this fiasco."

"We should have been more involved from the very beginning. Warren," she called to him. The pyro had been hovering nearby. Dog-like he'd parked himself in the spot with the best view of the action.

"The Scarlet Witch has not been captured. The Commander and I have are going to apprehend her. Can you stay with Will and Layla?"

Warren didn't look hopeful. "If they let me."

"Leave that to me," the Commander stalked off. After losing the Witch, he had a lot of steam to blow off.

"Here," she handed Warren a communication device. "Just hit the red button if you need me."

No big shocker, the Commander got his way. He motioned for Warren to join him.

Josie grabbed his arm first. He turned back to her, a questioning look on his face.

"Will spent half his childhood waking up to find me gone. I always told him there were bad villains I had to catch. Tell him," she suddenly seemed to deflate. She reached up to rub her forehead. "Tell him I have to catch a bad villain."

"I read her file." His frown just made his austere features more appealing. 'You don't have to justify yourself to me."

"And Will. What do I have to justify to him?"

Warren had been itching to say this for three years, but had always restrained himself. I wasn't his business. Sometimes moments come when the words are heard, not ignored. Warren just had a feeling. "You and Mr.S. You make him an adult Hero at fifteen but you don't respect him enough to level with him. He's not a kid anymore."

Josie didn't say anything. "Your husband looks like he's beaten the medics down to a figurative pulp. I'll see you later." Warren turned away from Josie and headed across the warehouse.

"Have they woken up yet?" Warren asked the Commander.

"Will's awake – he's not making much sense."

"So he's back to normal then," Warren said dryly.

The Commander glared intimidatingly at the pyro. Warren glared back. The sun didn't stop, the earth didn't shake, but it freaked out the medics.

"Sir," a stammering medic broke the fierce glare contest. "We're going to be transporting your son now. "

"Good." Steve broke eye content with Warren and took off one of his gloves. Two medics carried Will via stretcher to the air ambulance. They paused by the Commander. He knelt down by his son. The Commander felt an odd, uncomfortable heaviness in his chest.

"Hey kiddo," he forced himself to sound carefree. Steve and Josie had figured out years ago that Will was very sensitive to their moods. "Feeling better."

He pushed himself up on his elbows. "I'll live. Dad. . I'm sorry."

"Shh," Steve let his hand brush briefing against Will's cheek. "We'll talk about it later. Right now you need to get better. Don't worry about anything else. Your mother and I have work to do. These people are going to take care of you until we can." He stood up and nodded for the medics to move on.

Next two stretcher-bearers followed with Layla. She seemed asleep. When asked, the medic assured them she was fine. Warren jumped in after her. The Commander went to rejoin his wife.

Together they watched the craft lift vertically off the ground.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Will tried to sit up, but Warren seemed to think that was against the recently rescued hostage rules. Warren promised he'd update him if he stopped fidgeting and throwing back the blankets Warren kept obsessively tucking around him.

Will asked if he had a teddy bear for him.

Warren was just contemplating revenge strategies when he felt a familiar descending sensation.

"Why are we landing?" Warren turned to one of the two medics riding with them. He had expected to be airborne for at least another twenty minutes.

His look seemed to indicate he thought Warren wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. "Cause we're here."

Warren looked down at the postage stamp like building. "I could have sworn Command was bigger."

"This isn't the main hospital complex." Once the craft was down, the pilot killed the motor and unlocked the main hatch. He found himself roughly hauled around to face an angry pyrokinetic.

"Where are we?"

"Take it easy. This is Gotham Hero clinic."

Warren frowned. "I thought that dive was shut down."

"Hey, my girlfriend works here," the pilot sounded indignant.

"If you're landing us so you could have a quickie I'll fry you so bad you won't even be able to think about it for a month."

"You better listen. With my girlfriend out of it and me not able to power up, there's no one to stop him," Will Stronghold piped up. "Warren's got a bit of a loose fuse."

One of the medics, Warren had heard someone call him Dave, exclaimed angrily. "You broke protocol."

"Look." Fearing a reprimand in his future, he tried to placate Warren. "I'm doing your friends a favor. Command is a mad house. All the hero media is camped out there. There's more brass at Command right now than Saturday night in the red lantern district in Maxville."

"Where exactly is the red lantern district? Dad refuses to tell me." Will sat up better to hear the conversation. "I like the sound of this place a lot better than Command."

"You don't get a vote, Stronghold." Warren pushed his hand against the younger boy's chest. He mulled over what he said. "Will they be okay here," he asked gruffly.

It was the medic, Dave who answered. The second medic didn't contribute to the conversation. "They're fine. They just need a bath and some antibiotics."

"I'm sorry if after three days locked in a cell I'm not fresh enough for you," Will grumbled from his supine position.

"If Mr. Stronghold can argue with you, he's okay and Red's starting to come around. "

"Warren. I really don't want to be poked and bothered any more than necessarily." There was a plaintive note in Will's tired voice. "I just want to get cleaned up and take a couple aspirin."

"Let's unload then." There was a sigh of release from the pilot. The hatch swung open. Dave climbed out first. The pilot jumped out to take the other end of Layla's stretcher. Will, a determined look on his face, swung his legs over the side of his own stretcher. Warren, keeping a close eye on Will, jumped down from the craft. Will reached forward to grab a handle.

"Careful," Warren warned. Will followed Warren down.

"Hang on a second." Will called out to the medic, but his voice was too hoarse to be heard.

Warren whistled shrilly. Dave and the pilot stopped. Warren and Will moved to catch up.

"Will," Layla's voice barely audible.

Warren's face broke into a beaming smile that nobody at school would have believed. His long stride beat out Will. "It's okay Layla." Warren bent down to her. "You're safe, so is Stronghold."

He didn't get a reply. "Don't worry," the medic assured him. "She's just sleeping."

By now they had reached the Plexiglas door. The medic pressed a red panel. The door swung back. A nurse dressed in starched white was waiting for them. Her no nonsense hair was pulled into a practical bun. She wore no jewelry and minimal make up. She was holding an electronic notepad and not smiling.

"I wasn't given notification of your arrival."

"Sorry," the medic told her. "It was kind of rushed at the scene. Look, the kids just have a case of gas intoxication – we've got the specs on the gas and they're already coming around. They also have a respiratory infection. Nothing this place can't handle."

Understanding shown in her eyes. "Is this the son of the Commander and Jetstream?"

"Member of your fan club, Stronghold."

"But she doesn't wear goth black or play Ron to your Hermione."

"Not to interrupt, but I'm getting tired," Dave interjected.

Another nurse, this woman wearing blue scrubs joined them, pushing a wheelchair. "Mr. Stronghold, let's get you into bed."

Will sat down in the chair. "I want Layla to be looked at first."

"Of course," she said smoothly. Warren noticed that her friendly expression didn't seem to extend to anybody but the Stronghold Heir.

"I'm nurse Fletcher. Just let me know if you need anything. Rebecca, page Dr. Connors."

Leading the way, they transversed the half lit corridors


End file.
